


The Fiction of Reality

by Midlifecrisis



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Halloween, Kid Fic, M/M, Maybe Too Real, Mental Health Issues, Real Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midlifecrisis/pseuds/Midlifecrisis
Summary: Isak and Even have a daughter, but life is not plain sailing.
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Comments: 138
Kudos: 146





	1. Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to write something... This is a short intro.

Isak glared at his husband, his breath deep and slow, blowing out plumes of steam that caught in the street light of the chill Norwegian evening,

“I’m a what?”

“You’re a fuddy-duddy. A boring, old, ancient before his time, fuddy-duddy. A middle-aged killjoy who has forgotten how to have fun.”

Isak glanced down. Two huge, round blue eyes, surrounding by thick blue frames, stared. Slowly moving her head between her dads. Taking it all in. Storing it away in her amazingly smart brain, ready to release it all at a later date.

Isak silently fumed, biting his tongue and the natural barb that was on the end of it. He flicked his eyes towards little Lise.

“I don’t think it is appropriate to have this conversation at this very moment, _Kjæreste_.” He hissed out between his teeth, terrifying smile on his face.

“No! You’re right.” Even smiled back, just as feral.

He knelt in front of their daughter, straightening her hat and smoothing out her robes.

“You are an amazing looking witch, Hermione herself would be proud of such an outfit. Don’t you agree Papa?”

Isak felt his heart soften, despite the obvious hostility.

“Yes, I do.” He answered quietly, running his palm across her hair and smoothing Lise’s amazing curls with tenderness.

Even looked pointedly at his husband, speaking with a brittle brightness.

“So, Lise and her Dad will finish off this terrible imported American tradition of ‘trick or treating’ round our lovely neighbours’ houses, that Papa despises so much and thinks we shouldn’t do, whilst Papa goes back home and warms up the hot chocolate and the pumpkin muffins that Dad made earlier.”

Isak sighed. One look at Lise and he knew he had lost.

“Very well, have fun you two.” He kissed Lise’s cold, pink cheek tenderly, pointedly ignored Even and turned round for to head back to their townhouse.

As he stomped his way home, his internal monologue began to rage,

_‘Trick or treating is glorified begging…What on earth would their neighbours think of them?…How dare Even make Lise take sides…’_

By the time he had marched back to their street and unlocked the door, Isak’s fury had begun to dissipate, and turn into something deeper and more dangerous. Something colder but just as powerful. He was no longer angry; he had fallen down from his irritation. He entered the house and slumped onto the chair just inside the door. He realised with a start that he was now back into the familiar and unwelcome territory of exhaustion.

Isak had fallen in love with Even like a hammer to the head.

They were teenage sweethearts and crashed into each other with such a passion that they were soon intense lovers. Isak remembered that time with such fondness, so powerful as to be almost unreal. Each was broken by their own situation and found something in the other that seemed to meet a need that had never been fulfilled. And how he had thrilled at it.

Isak knew that he brought Even stability and consistency. He gave Even a solid foundation and hope for the future. He had ideas and determinedly included Even in each and every one. Whereas Even found planning challenging, Isak was a natural at it. He booked their holidays, made their shopping lists, organised the laundry and when Even wanted them to move in together, he toured estate agents and viewed all their options. When Even proposed to Isak in the most romantic and outrageous way, Isak arranged the whole wedding (with a little help from his friends, of course).

And Even, for his part, made Isak feel alive. Where once he had been an exhausted teen, terrified of his sexuality and estranged from his parents, he had become a self-assured young man, loved by another and so able at last to love himself.

But that all felt like a hundred years ago now. He knew it was only twelve years in reality, but he could hardly remember those carefree and ridiculous days. His thirtieth birthday and had come and gone and Even was right. He was an old man.

“Lise is sound asleep.”

Even closed her door carefully and made his way across the living room in his socks.

I'm

“She still has a chocolate moustache and his wearing her Gryffindor tie, but snoring loudly like any nine year-old should be after far too many sweets and chocolate. I didn’t even have to read a chapter of _The Chamber of Secrets_.”

“God, she must have been exhausted!”

Isak thought they were both going to chuckle, but the joy just didn’t seem to be there.

Even sighed and flopped down, not on the couch but on the solitary chair opposite Isak.

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about it?” Isak repeated.

“ _It_! Talk about _it_ , Isak!”

Isak could hear the tone harden in his husband’s voice. He sighed, it wasn’t on purpose, but it had the desired effect.

“Oh, for God’s sake. If you can’t be adult about this…what’s the point?”

Isak felt his shoulders stiffen and his core solidify.

“If _I_ can’t be adult…?”

In any other situation he would be shouting, but with an innocent and sleeping Lise next door, it came out as a hard hiss. His eyes cold.

Even looked at him, clearly angry,

“Fine. Feel free to stew for as long as you like. I’m going to bed. Halloween has wiped me out.”

Isak snorted, “Yes, you must be exhausted. With all the playing, and sweets and fun that you’ve been having.”

Even’s eyes narrowed, “Good night, Isak. Switch the lights out when you come to bed.” He rubbed his eyes, unexpected looking tired, “Happy Halloween, baby.”

And with that Even was gone.

The term of endearment cut deep. Isak was exhausted and sad and the one thing he knew would definitely not be happening for him that night was sleep.


	2. Party

It had been a week since the Halloween unpleasantness, but neither Isak nor Even had mentioned it the morning after. It was not a new experience, and they both had grown adept at sweeping previous arguments under the carpet. They moved through their days with the smooth efficiency of a couple who knew the family routines and the part that they each played. Isak found security in this, a much-preferred alternative to picking at the scabs of previous wounds.

The next morning, Isak was up first as usual, showered and dressed and making packed lunches by the time Even and Lise wandered through, both still soft and sleepy. Even made breakfast for them all: usually porridge but always with the exciting additions that he had bought that week. Lise’s favourite was fresh strawberries, but as they were out of season, she had to make do with jam this morning. 

“So, Lise, what do you have planned for your day at school?” Even asked vaguely as he set the coffee to brew. Isak smirked, Even asked this nearly every morning and was trying to encourage an answer from Lise by faking disinterest.

Legs swinging with uncommon energy, Lise gave her Dad a massive grin, “Mr Larzen said we are starting our new project today.” 

Lise was a well-behaved nine year-old who seemed to enjoy school, but he had never heard this level of interest before. Her main responses were usually limited to “school was fine”, “learned some stuff” and “what’s for dinner”? She saved her excitement for her personal reading and library which were growing all the time. No wonder Hermione was her favourite character from Hogwarts!

“I’m really excited.” she squeaked.

Isak was intrigued. “Oh yeah! Why are you so excited about this particular task?” 

“I can’t tell you it’s a surprise.” she whispered, her forefinger across her lips and her eyebrows wiggling. “But I’ll be working on it for weeks and weeks. ‘That’s what Mr Larzen said.”

“Well now I am fascinated to know,” Even wiggled his own eyebrows in response and Isak snuffed out a small laugh. He had always found that particular expression of Even’s endearing. It was easy to become familiar with everyday miracles and take them for granted, but in that moment Isak was reminded of just how fantastically gorgeous his husband was. God he was a lucky bastard! It warmed him inside and he noticed Even’s own face soften with a subtle tenderness as he turned to Isak and smiled in response,

“How about Lise and I pick up some potatoes on our way home and we’ll make us all your favourite dumplings for dinner.” Even asked as he poured out Isak’s coffee and gently touched his forefinger to Isak’s strong chin. “I’ll even put the little bits of ham in them—”

“—and lots of melted butter with the green bits and garlic!” Lise added, rubbing her tummy.

“Oh, that would be lovely, but I won’t be needing dinner tonight. I’ll be late home.” Isak answered, avoiding eye contact as he flipped through the morning paper and took a sip of his perfect brew.

“Late? Again?” Even paused pouring the milk into his own drink.

“Yeah. I told you about it.” Isak looked up, not yet noticing the change in Even’s voice.

Even raised his eyebrows. “I don’t believe you did.”

“Yes. I did. It’s that thing with Magne. For the investors.” Isak became aware of the cooling air between them, “I mentioned it last week sometime. You know the usual— drinks and nibbles, touring the lab, a short presentation about the research. Smoozing to keep the money happy. As I said, just the usual.” He rambled on, taking a bite of porridge and waving his spoon randomly, as if trying to disperse the tension.

“But tonight is my meeting with Mikael. We were planning on actually beginning our business plan. We’ve been trying to organise it for ages, and this is the first time that he's free. I told you.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. I would have remembered.” 

“Only if you were actually listening to what I was saying. And I’m sure I would have remembered if you had told me about your smoozing thing. You are out often enough.”

“Well, can’t you and Mikael meet another time? It’s not like you’re both overly busy.”

“Well, can’t someone else suck up to the investors for you?”

“You know that as project lead it’s my responsibility.”

“And you know that Mikael and I have been trying to meet to do this for months. Do you have to be there? Can no one substitute?”

“I’ve told you, it’s my job. And I hardly think that meeting with your old school friend to discuss another wacky start up idea is as important as securing my funding for the next two years.”

Even went very still. “Wacky start up?” he repeated, his tone positively chilly.

“Well, not wacky as such, but you can’t deny that it is a bit unusual and why all of a sudden have you met up again with Mikael? I mean, is it likely to be a success?”

“What are you saying, Isak? If you have something to say, don’t mess around, just say it.”

“I’m just saying that it is not a—fully formed idea yet and it wouldn’t hurt to wait a while to think it about it more. Or to see if Mikael will actually stick around this time to see this one through.”

“I see.” Even was now glacial.

“And as it is my job and wage that pays the rent and buys the food, doesn’t it make more sense to make sure my funding is secure?”

The silence stretched until a small voice piped up,

“It isn’t on the calendar.” Lise pointed at the wall. “You both always say to write our appointments on the calendar. And can I have some more orange juice please?”

Both men turned to look at the family calendar that hung on the wall. The box for today was empty. No appointments or information at all.

“It seems we are at an impasse.” Isak shrugged, trying to release some of the weight.

Even’s body language didn’t yield. “You’re unwilling to miss this thing tonight to allow me to meet Mikael?”

“I’ve told you that I can’t.”

“Then I’ll rearrange.” He moved round the table and poured Lise a half glass of juice, kissed her on the temple, swept passed Isak and exited the room.

“I’m going for a shower. Be ready for school in 15 minutes, Lise. Kiss Papa now as you won’t see him before bed tonight. He will be busy with his very important work.” 

There was no tone to Even’s words but Isak knew him well enough to hear what was unspoken. And he didn’t like it at all.

“How are things in the perfect world of the Bech Næsheim/Valtersen clan?” Anita met Isak at the main door, smugly tipping her coffee in his direction.

“Did you get me one of them?” He pointed at the cup.

“No. Should I? Tough morning? Everything NOT perfect in the Bech Næsheim/Valtersen clan?” 

“What? No. Just ready for my second caffeine injection of the day. It's going to be a long one! I guess it’ll need to be that awful stuff in the staffroom. You think with all the cutting-edge tech we have, we could afford a better coffee machine!” 

Isak subtly tried to move her away from talk of his family. Anita had a long standing and rather embarrassing crush on Even and was totally ignorant as to how uncomfortable it made Isak.

“Of course, everything is great at home. With that delightful daughter of yours and your super-hot other half, how could anyone not be blissfully happy all the time?” she pressed the button for the lift. “If I was married to Even, I would be happy to carry out his every wish – be his personal slave – lick his boots. I mean, his lips alone are enough to—”

“Anita!” Isak snapped, almost making her drop her coffee. She turned to look at him, eyes wide.

“Everything ok, Isak?” the doors slid open.

“Yes, please, could you just stop drooling over Even in my presence. I mean he is my husband.” He mumbled feebly, as he walked into the empty lift.

“Sure. Of course.” She answered, still perky, “but don’t expect me to stop thinking about him. That suit he wore to your wedding has been enough to keep me in wank fantasies for years.”

Isak sighed and pressed the button for the fourth floor. How could it not even be nine o’clock yet?

Both Even and Lise were already in bed and fast asleep when Isak made it home. His day had gone from bad to worse: his latest experiment had come back mostly negative, leading the whole team back to the drawing board. In itself this was not unusual, but it would mean he’d need to explain to the investors why they needed more time and more money, and not all non-scientists understood the importance of failure in research. The investors meeting had become unpleasant and Isak had simply longed for escape. As he couldn’t physically escape, he lost himself in the cheap university wine instead.

He wandered into Lise’s room to check on her, but on the way stumbled over the large pile of books that she kept beside her bed. He toppled to the floor with such a crash that he woke Lise with a start and caused Even to come running through, his hair standing on end and his face pale and shocked, having gone from cosy sleep, to alert fatherly protection in less than a second.

“What the actual fuck!” he breathed out as he switched Lise’s bedside reading light on, “Isak?”

“Don’t’ say the ‘f’ word Dad.” Lise abstractly muttered, still half asleep.

“Back to bed, baby.” Even tucked her back down and switched the light off. “It’s just Papa being clumsy.”

And as he dragged Isak to his feet and manoeuvred him out the door. Lise was already back asleep.

“You’re drunk.” He stated simply.

“Mm mm.”

“That good a party?” Even almost drawled.

“Evennnnnnn—” Isak moaned. Finger tracing round the shell of his husband’s ear, playing easily with the top button of his pyjama jacket.

Even caught his wrist and pushed it out of harm’s way, “I don’t think so, Isak.”

He led him through to the sofa and pushed the tipsy Isak down easily. He left for a few minutes and came back with one of their camping sleeping bags and a pillow from their bed.

“I’m not your drunk horny shag Isak. Go to sleep. See you in the morning.”

Isak was alone.


	3. The Funeral

“And then what happened?”

“Well, he was so annoyed at being called a girl by the shopkeeper, that he insisted that Grandma Tram took him to the hairdressers immediately and he got it all cut off, like really, really short. Not even a curl was left. Almost a buzzcut.”

“And was he really grumpy about it?”

“Oh, so, so grumpy you have no idea. He sat with his arms folded tight and a huge frown on his face the whole time, even once the cut was finished. I’ve still got the photo. Do you want to see?”

“Oh yes please. Hold it up for me,”

Isak stopped his surreptitious listening, pushed himself up off the door frame and walked up behind Lise, putting his hands on her shoulders. He bent over and looked into the computer screen.

“Hey Lea.” He smiled and waved. “What’s up? And what terrible lies are you telling your niece.”

“Its not a lie!” Lise shrieked and giggled. “Look at the photo. You had lovely long hair when you were the same age as I am.” She pointed at the screen. “It’s longer than mine!”

Isak’s white, blond hair, long and flowing down his back was clear on the screen, small whisps curling round his face. His cherubic countenance smiling brightly out at them.

“Let me go and find the one with it short.” Lea smiled and disappeared from view.

“What’s all the fun and why is it happening without me?” Even chuckled as he came round the corner, drying his hands on a kitchen towel.

“Auntie Lea is showing me old photos of Papa. He had really long hair and then he got it cut because he was so grumpy.”

“Ah.” Even smiled gently, “That is one of my very favourite photos of your Papa. I wish I had known him then. I would have put such pretty braids in it, just like yours.” He tugged lightly on Lise’s pigtails.

She giggled in response. “Men can’t have braids.”

“Yes, they can, baby.” Even answered. “Whatever it takes to be yourself!”

“Really?”

“Yes, it's true.” Isak added. “I was far too worried about what other people thought. I actually really liked my long hair, but I got it cut because I was scared that people would tease me about being a girl. It has taken me along time to be comfortable being myself—” he was surprised when his voice almost cracked “—just like your dad says.”

Isak felt Even’s arm wrap round his waist, and he leaned over and kissed his cheek in response. They caught each other’s eye and smiled.

“Eugh, Lise, how can you cope with such sappiness!” Lea cried out from the laptop screen. "Maybe you wouldn’t find him so attractive, Even, if you saw this grumpy face—” and she shoved the photo of Isak onto the screen; arms folded, frown set, lips pouting, and hair shorn almost all off.

They all laughed for a while until Even broke the hilarity,

“That’s where your wrong Lea. Grumpy Isak is my second favourite Isak of all.” Even squeezed his waist.

“What’s your first favourite Isak, Dad?”

Even walked over to the cabinet and took down a photo of them. He showed it to Lise and then turned it for Lea to see on the screen.

“This. This is my first favourite Isak.” He sighed.

Isak looked at the image. It was a wedding photo in black and white, but not the formal one. Someone had snapped it during a break in proceedings, later on in the evening. They were both in their shirts, jackets removed, ties off, buttons undone and hair starting to flop. There was a slight sheen of sweat on Even’s forehead and Isak’s hair had started to curl in the humidity. And they were looking at each other. Only looking at each other. With such concentration and focus. Nothing could have broken through.

Isak looked at his husband.

“Thank you.” he said.

Both men sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea, and quietly chatting through the week ahead. It had been too long since they had taken this kind of time, and Isak was pleased that he had suggested it. Lise was occupied with the movie of The Philosopher’s Stone on the laptop, Even’s large headphones almost covering the whole side of her face. The differences in the film from the book bothered her. She insisted that Hermione had to be dark skinned like her friend Hana, because she had big bushy hair too and that is how she imagined her the first time she read the book. But she still loved it anyway.

“Why was Lise talking to Lea?” Even asked.

“I think it was for her mysterious school ‘project’.” Isak put the words in air quotes, “But quite what my hair had to do with it I’ll never know.” He took a sip of tea. “I’m guessing it has something to so with families as she has asked to call Granny Train tomorrow for details on you, _kjæreste_.”

Even snorted, “God, if my mum gets started, she could be online from Trondheim all day!”

“You _are_ her favourite subject.” Isak joined in with a snort of his own.

Both men let a comfortable silence descend.

“It’s funny the things that having kids brings.” Isak began. “ I mean, when mum was alive, she loved being called Grandma Tram and your mum has grown to accept Grandma Train, in fact I think she prefers it now. And all because it was Lise’s way of distinguishing between them. All because one we visit on the tram and one we visit using the train.” He was quiet again. “I never expected to be moved by stuff like that.”

“There was so much we never thought of. I mean you were only twenty-five when we got Lise. And she had already had her second birthday. She was this—person. A new person and she was suddenly our family.”

“Do you remember toilet training? She had only been with us a week or so and the book said to start at two. Neither of us has had had very much to do with girls’ parts and research only goes so far. I was terrified that she was going to get some horrible infection because we hadn’t taught her properly.”

“And cleaning up that kind of mess. And a simple trip to the market was a military operation with all the equipment that we thought we needed.”

Isak’s voice softened. “But that first night she was ours. I just looked at her for hours.

“Yes, I remember.” Even matched Isak’s tone, half smile on his lips.

“First trip on a tram, first holiday, first Christmas with us, first Constitution Day with us, first day at school.” Isak listed on his fingers with a smile.

“First discussion about death.” Even added. “Talking to her about your Mama’s illness was so hard. For some reason, telling her made it all so real. But I was so proud of her at the funeral.”

Isak nodded. “Me too. I think having a child there helped, she was so innocent and kind. It certainly made it easier for me. I suppose I could see the future and not the past.”

“Did I tell you what she said to me that night, in your mum’s house?” Even asked.

Isak shook his head, with a mouthful of tea.

“What was she at the time? Five?”

“Yeah.”

“She said, ‘Dad, now that Grandma Tram has gone, I’m going to look after Papa, like you do.’ Or something like that.” He waved his hand.

Isak swallowed the tea and the large lump that had formed in his throat. He leaned over to Even and kissed him tenderly on the lips, chaste and full of love.

“Thank you. Again.” He sat back down. “I think she’s steepest learning curve I’ve ever experienced. And I’m a scientist!”

“Honestly, I think nearly six years later, we’re still on the curve. It’s maybe just a little less steep. I mean things haven’t been that easy lately, have they?”

The silence fell again, but this time was less comfortable. It stretched out and Isak began to pick at his nails.

“Do you want something to eat.” He stood up. Even reached out for his hand and looked him clear in the eye.

“Isak, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just a bit peckish.”

“No. Not right at this moment. With us. Something’s wrong.”

Isak shrugged, “Nothing.”

“ _Kjæreste_?”

“Nothing.” His voice went tight. “I think I’ll make some toast. Brown or white?”

Even sighed, “Brown thanks.” Watching Isak carefully as he began the preparations.

“Is someone making toast?” A voice shouted through from the living room, “Can I have jam on mine?”

“Of course.” Isak shouted back. “She takes after you with her appetite,” Isak pointed at Even, deflecting, making it clear that this conversation was over. For the moment.


	4. Night

The white stripe of car headlights slid across the room, through the slight gap in the curtains. Isak watched as each line of white lit up their wardrobe door, and then moved along the wall to the door, crossing the bed, lighting up each man in turn and then vanishing into the night. He let the bar of light burn into his retinas, counting the hours of the night, over and over again. Each one a person, going somewhere, needing to move, needing to be somewhere else.

Isak was aware of the weight of Even next to him, his presence familiar yet discordant in some way. Like a familiar song played on an out of tune piano. He knew Even as well as he knew any other soul in the universe, yet the few centimetres between them felt like an unbridgeable gap. Tangible on his tongue with a bitter tang. The elegant curve of Even’s back facing the sharp point of Isak elbow, unable to touch but unable to separate.

Isak sighed and rolled to face the back of his husband’s head. Even’s hair was greasy, mussed with sleep and flattened on one side, dark brown in the faint light from the streetlamps. He reached his hand out. The tip of his finger hovering, his thumb twitching millimetres from a knobbly bone jutting out of his long neck. Even had always been slender and it didn’t seem to be changing with age, unlike Isak’s own thickening waist and rapidly retreating chest muscles. When would he ever find time to get to the gym? He supposed it was the kind of thing that you made time for. The kind of thing that you found a space in your diary for. The kind of thing that mattered. Did it? Matter?

Surely other things mattered more? Like his turn to drop Lise off at school one morning a week. Like pizza nights, just the three of them. Like reading a chapter, or two, of Harry Potter every night. Like being home for bath time. Like school concerts and parent’s meetings. Lise was worth every moment of time that he was able to give. She had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. To them.

Even.

The thought of their first few year’s together rose unbidden. The intoxication of learning a new person, of finally opening yourself up and letting them see everything—, well not everything, but nearly everything. The distant image of young Even came to his mind, his lithe limbs and ivory blue skin, but he was sure those images were from photos. When he thought of Even as a living human, he couldn’t see him as anything other than a man in his thirties. God he was beautiful, still beautiful. Older but more solid, more real, a man who had grown into himself and was comfortable in his own skin. Was that what was wrong with Isak? Was he uncomfortable in his own skin?

He used to tell Lea that Even was the best thing to ever happen to him. Perhaps Isak wasn’t the best thing that had ever happened to Even.

He had no idea and he was tired, and his head hurt. His eyes were gritty and dry, his throat tight. His breathing stiff and difficult. Was that thumping noise something outside? Road works at night? A machine. Someone at the door? No, it was him, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear a wheezing noise. The air in the room seemed too thick to make it all the way down into his lungs, it was sticking in his throat. Panic rose in him, was this a heart attack? Is this how it ended? Here beside Even but far away. He was going to die, and this mess would die with him. Even and Lise would be free. They could get on with their lives with him gone. He bunched his hands in to the sheets, gripping hard, eyes closed tight and waiting for the end.

“Isak?”

“Isak? Isak? Kjæreste?”

Someone was saying his name. He let his eyes open. Just a few centimetres in front of him was blue. Cool blue saying his name.

“Isak. Listen to me. You’re OK, you’re having a panic attack.”

No that didn’t sound right. He was dying. He shook his head.

Listen. Listen to my voice. Breath when I tell you. Do what I tell you. Close your mouth and breath through your nose.”

No, that didn’t sound right either. His mouth was open, he was gulping air, but there was no oxygen in it. Someone manhandled him until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head gently pushed until it was almost between his knees.

“OK, breath in only, Isak, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Now slowly let it out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.”

Even kept speaking saying the same thing over and over, counting the same five numbers over and over. Isak had no idea how long it went on. Eventually he felt his heart settle and he was overwhelmingly tired, tears sprang to his eyes. He heard a loud sob, then realised that it came from his own throat.

“Isak—” The word was so tender is drew out another sob.

“Oh Isak.”

He opened his eyes, blurrily looking at Even.

“It’s OK Isak. You had some kind of panic attack. It’ll leave you feeling pretty fragile. Can I touch you? Give you a hug?”

Isak nodded silently, the words of affirmation stuck in his throat. He felt Even's arms surround him and he gave up the fight against gravity. He was slowly drawn back onto the bed, tucked into Even’s side. He felt like his bones were made of porcelain, but Even felt real. He felt right. Solid and sure. Another sob erupted and Even’s hold strengthened,

“Oh Isak.”

Even held him tight, whispering soft words and breathing into his ear with a sweet heat, until Isak felt himself drift.


	5. The Bed

Isak drifted towards consciousness, like a bubble in a glass of champagne. He recognised a forgotten but familiar deliciousness, as on a holiday or day off. The luxury of a long lie in. 

Even was hot at his back, spooning lightly but still close. The bedcovers were heavy and comforting. He let his mind drift, focusing on nothing in particular but sliding from image to sensation to emotion without trying to understand. His body was achy, as if after a long-distance run, but he was comfortable and safe and content.

Even’s breathing always steadied him: whether the lightness of his sleeping breaths or the puffing, exhausted exhales when they were running or exercising together. He smiled to himself and let his eyes flick open. There was a harsh strip of bright blue showing through the curtains. Reality hit.

“Shit! Even. Wake up. We’ve overslept. Even wake up.” Panicked, he shoved at Even’s shoulder.

Even smiled lazily at him and giggled.

“Even it’s not funny. Mr Larzen will have our heads. You know how big he is on timekeeping. Lise will never forgive us.”

Isak was rattled but Even continued to chuckle.

“Even, it’s NOT funny. Come on. Hurry up!” Along with dread, bile was rising in his throat.

“Relax Isak.” Even placed his hand on his husband’s shoulder and began to rub. “Relax. I’ve already been up and sorted Lise. Hana’s mum took her – she does every Thursday. Seriously. It’s ok. I called the lab and explained you were sick and would not be in today. You need time to recover. Panic attacks can be nasty.” he finished gently.

Isak stared, dumbfounded, his breathing returning to normal.

“What? How did—” he tried, stopping, then eventually going with “How did I sleep through all of that?”

“We were as ‘quiet as mice’ – those were Lise’s words. She said it was important to sleep lots if you were sick.”

“You didn’t tell her—”

“No baby,” Even soothed, “I just said you were feeling poorly and needed time to get better. Like when she had the Chicken Pox.”

Isak started to relax again. He wasn’t very good at calling in sick when he was ill, but he must admit that he was exhausted and somewhat emotionally fragile and a day at work would perhaps have been a challenge too far. Isak let his head snuggle back into Even’s neck – the same place he had fallen asleep in last night.

“Thank you.” He really meant it.

A safe silence enveloped them both.

Even’s arm was resting lightly across the pillow, stroking through Isak’s tangled hair with a delicate touch. Every now and then he would kiss Isak’s forehead. Isak let his hand drag across Even’s stomach, catching his belly button and tickling the sensitive strip of flesh under is rib cage. Even squirmed and moved to blow a slow raspberry into the side of Isak’s neck – always a place that made him crumble.

Without either of them noticing, their touch altered. Isak spent more time around Even’s nipples, beginning to tease and toy, and in his turn Even’s mouth began to kiss and lick. The arousal was familiar and in the circumstances very unusual. Sex was restricted to evenings once Lise was asleep, and as both men were usually exhausted, it was not always their best work.

However, the luxury of slow, lazy morning sex began to nudge its head above the horizon. Isak’s groin stirred and he dipped his fingers below Even’s waistband, to find a similar situation.

“Is this ok?” both men said at the same time and then smiled. 

This was ok.

Their kisses quickly moved from tender to harder, less caressing more reaching. Isak searched for Even with his tongue and was, as always, delighted by his taste and sensation. Even’s mouth had long been a weak spot in his libido.

It was different and surprising. The usual necessity of having at least one part of his mind on the door, or where Lise was, or what time it was, was redundant. With nothing to disturb them and nowhere to be, Isak let himself feel. It had been years, he realised, literally years, since they had the luxury of enjoying foreplay, and not just as a means of making sure they could both finish quickly. The end goal this morning could be a different kind of satisfaction.

Isak felt the rush of lust and without thinking, manoeuvred Even above him. He didn’t want the usual, the familiar, the same old same old.

“Can you—?” he paused, looking up at Even, panting and a little awkward.

“What?” Even’s hair stuck out at mad angles and his eyes were dark.

“Can you—?” he started again, but the words stuck in his throat.

“What?” And then more flirtatiously and slow, “My sweet, sweet, kjære Isak?” 

He dragged his fingertips across Isak’s abdomen. It was intensely erotic. And then like he knew, 

“Do you want to try something different?”

Isak nodded. He had been told that DURING sex was not the best time to talk about sex, but when else were they meant to?

“Would you take control?”

Even grinned, “I’d be delighted to. Just how much ‘control’ are we talking?” his voice low and rough.

“I’m not sure.” Isak squirmed, “This is more difficult than I thought.”

“How about I say some things and you can nod or shake your head.”

Isak nodded.

“Ok, I’ll start gently.” He smirked, a little rakishly if Isak were being honest,

“Do you want to bottom?”

Nod.

“Do you want to be underneath?” 

Nod.

“Face down?”

Shake.

“Can I tie up your hands? To the bed? And your legs?”

Nod. Nod. Shake.

“Will I instruct you to stay silent?”

Nod.

“Will I be in charge of when you come?”

Isak blushed and nodded.

“I don’t think I could hit you or anything, is that ok? I think that would take a bit more discussion.”

“No, I don’t want that either,” Isak found his voice. He wriggled underneath, “but I want it to be slow.”

“Your wish is my command.” Even made a silly little bow.

“No, Even, your wish is my command.”

“Oh my God!” Isak lay in what he was sure must be a puddle of sweat and possibly semen. He tried not to think about the fact that they would have to wash the bedding and dry it on a cold November day. 

Even lay beside him, “Oh my God, indeed.”

They both took the time to get their breath back

“That was fucking phenomenal.” Isak sighed.

“Fucking phenomenal, indeed.” Even repeated again.

“Are you just gonna copy everything I say?”

They giggled.

“I love Lise, so much, to the moon and back, but that—, we need to do that more often.”

“More often, indeed,”

More giggling.

“Are you hungry. Do you want pancakes?”

“With bananas and chocolate sauce?”

“Is there any other way?”

The two men wired into their decadent breakfast, both sighing with satisfaction as the sugar and carbs hit their blood stream. Isak drank milk with his and Even sipped on some posh cloudy apple juice that he loved.

“I’m sorry.” Isak mumbled, looking at his empty plate.

Even took the crockery and put it into the sink and then pulled Isak over to the couch.

“Isak. I love you. This morning was amazing, really amazing. I mean, and let me be clear about this, really amazing!”

Isak smiled.

“But it doesn’t solve everything. There’s something wrong. Something between us is off.”

The smile vanished.

“Will you talk to me?”

Isak’s eyes became glassy.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any suggestions?


	6. The Couch

Isak stared at Even. Even returned his gaze with no obvious motive.

They sat on the couch, facing each other like an interview. Isak had no idea where to start. He knew that he had to speak to Even, but he wasn’t actually sure what he was meant to say. He swallowed thickly and the silence stretched and yet his husband continued to wait – open and patient. Isak shifted his body weight on the couch.

“This is hard with you looking at me.” he whispered.

Even gently moved them both until he was sitting with his back against the armrest and Isak neatly tucked between his long legs, leaning on Even’s chest, head resting on his breastbone. He stroked through Isak’s curls.

“Maybe this will be easier.”

And they both fell back to silence.

Isak was floundering, he could feel it again; his breath getting shallow, his throat getting tight. 

‘Oh god, not another one.’ he thought.

“Isak baby. Stop.” Even slipped his arms over Isak’s shoulders and applied pressure. “Stop. Just stop and relax. It’s only me.”

Even counted and Isak found his breathing become slow and start to match the words, like before. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. And repeat.

“Why can’t you tell me?”

Was there an edge of something slipping into Even’s tone? Impatience? Hurt? Fuck, he was messing this all up. Just an hour ago they had been closer than they had been in ages. Telling him that stuff, about what he really wanted, Isak had never trusted Even more. And breakfast, and pancakes, and sweet pauses. Shit. Shit!

“Look Isak. You don’t have to tell me anything,” he continued, “but if you do, I’ll try my best. What I mean is I’m not going to hurt you. At least not on purpose. I promise.”

“What if I hurt you instead?” Isak mumbled.

“Honestly?” Even sighed. “You are already hurting me. I am so worried about you. Not knowing is worse than knowing. I promise that anything you tell me won’t be worse than what I’m imagining in my head.”

Isak felt like a child but he couldn’t help it.

“Could you ask me questions again.” He managed to voice.

Even took a breath in and swallowed, then licked his lips. Isak supposed Even might be finding this as hard as he was and was simply better at putting a brave face on it, for Isak’s sake. It didn’t really make him feel any better.

“Are you being unfaithful to me?” Even began.

“No, Even. Never. I would never. I promise.”

“I know but I had to ask the big one to start with.” He exhaled slowly and deliberately. “How could you improve on perfection anyway?”

It lightened the mood a little.

“Are you ill?”

No.

“Is someone else ill?”

No.

“Do you love me? Do you love Lise?”

“Yes, and yes. So much.”

“Ok then. Erm, are you allergic to mayonnaise?”

“What the fuck Even? Isak turned round to look at him. Even shrugged. “You could have been.”

Isak let out a snort, and smirked, “You’re an idiot.”

“You married me!” Even smirked back. “So— Is it to do with your job?”

“I think so, in a way? But can you ask other things?”

“Ok. Erm, are you scared or worried?”

“Yes, I feel those things but—” he stopped.

“But what Kjæreste.?”

“But I’m not sure why.”

“Well, what else are you feeling?” Even probed.

“Well, you’ve seen me get anxious and panic.” He settled back against Even’s chest; Even’s hands spread out across his stomach. “I seem to get really frustrated at work, and some of the people are driving me crazy,” Even winced, “Sorry baby, I mean getting me annoyed, like I have no patience with them.” 

Even hated words like ‘crazy’ or ‘nuts’ and Isak had known this for a long time. It was a sign of how upset he was that he used it at all.

There was a pause in the conversation.

“Do you enjoy your work.”

“I’m not sure. Not very often.”

“Do you feel like you’re in a rut? At work?”

“Kind of.”

“And at home?”

Isak paused, “Sometimes.” His voice was almost inaudible.

Even went quiet. Isak tried to breathe normally. Something unusual came to mind

“You know, when I first told Jonas about you, that I like you, way before anyone else knew. I made him do this?”

“Do what?”

“Ask me questions. Guess what I wanted to tell him. I just couldn’t get the words out. It appears I have never been very good at getting the words out.” Isak’s voice trailed off at the end.

Even nodded and hummed, “I think you’re right.”

“I mean I told Terje I had a boyfriend, then I chickened out, then I didn’t. I didn’t tell Mama, I just let her meet you.”

“Now that was the wise thing to do. I am very charming.”

“Yes, you are. And you charmed her fully.” He paused thoughtfully. “I think all this time we have been together I have relied on you for your confidence. You are so certain of who you are. You are so good with Lise, and I make all the mistakes.”

“I don’t think that’s true, not any of it. I have doubts and make mistakes all the time. But is that how you really feel? How you see it?”

Isak nodded sadly.

“Ok then. But this morning you were kinda different.” Even’s face flushed a little which was very unusual.

“You mean, in bed?” Isak spoke in a low fake sexy voice and twirled a curl seductively.

“Yes, you bastard, I mean in bed.” Even pinched the skin on him stomach.

Isak shrugged. “It took me by surprise a little, although I have been thinking, well, that way, for a while, but well, when are we meant to talk about stuff like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“We are very rarely just a couple anymore. And when we are, we are Lise’s parents. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t have it any other way, but I think I forget what it is like to be your partner in other ways.”

“You mean, like, my lover?” A smile.

“Yes, your lover.” Another smile.

“Right, well this is good. It’s quite a practical thing and we can have a think about solutions later. You know ways to get more ‘lover time’ together.”

Isak snorted out a laugh, “Great title!”

“But there’s more yeah? What about work?”

“Well, at work, you’re not there, You’re not really a part of my life there.”

“You’re very successful, Isak, you run the lab.”

“Yeah, but so what. I basically work for an oil company.”

Even raised his eyebrows, “And?”

“I don’t like them. I actually feel bad about it, like I’m helping to destroy the planet. Actually – I am literally helping to destroy the planet.”

“So, if you could choose anything to do, what would it be?”

“Renewables.” Isak answered without a pause.

“That was fast.”

Isak nodded, “But I can’t.”

“Why not? You’re incredibly clever and very hard working.”

“I would need to retrain. Quit my job and probably do a second Masters. Or at least start at the bottom rung at another place.” He paused, and the silence hung heavy. He knew he was holding back.

“And?” Even prompted.

“And? Well, we couldn’t afford it. Without my wage, we couldn’t—” and he waved his and around the room.

He felt Even tense under him, and he spun round. There was hurt in Even’s eyes.

“I’m not blaming you, Even. Please, I’m not. You look after Lise so well.”

“But I just don’t earn enough money.”

“That’s not your part of the arrangement. It’s mine. I have always thought that I would be the main earner.”

“But it’s not what you want any more. I’m holding you back.”

“Are you saying that being with me isn’t holding you back?" Isak cut back quickly. "If you hadn’t needed to look after Lise, you and Mikael would probably be entrepreneur millionaires by now.”

“I highly doubt that any of our half-cooked ideas would have come to anything.”

“Probably not.” Isak’s attempt at sarcasm fell flat. “So,” he tried another tack. “Hey, isn’t this meant to be about my midlife crisis – not yours, you thief!”

Even made eye contact and slowly let his lips rise at the corners.

“Very true.”

“Very true! Now all we need it to keep talking and I’m sure we’ll sort it out. Don’t you think?”

Even gave a small nod and Isak kissed him gently. He stretched his arms around Even and whispered into his ear.

“See, we’ll be ok now. We’ll be ok.”


	7. The Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even.

Even watched Lise absentmindedly, her nose pressed up against the window of the train as the Norwegian countryside blurred passed. Every now and then she would announce news or give some commentary. 

“There’s a cow with horns!” 

“Do you think that’s a school? Maybe those children are the same age as me.” 

“That cloud looks like a dolphin!” 

Her chatter lightened his heart a little. 

“Would you like to live in the countryside? I’m not sure I would, do they have play parks? Mr Larzen said he grew up on a farm when he was telling us about—” but she stopped suddenly and put her fingers over her mouth. “Oops, I nearly told you the secret.” she giggled. 

Even smiled at her with his mouth, but he wasn’t certain that it carried to his eyes. But Lise didn’t notice as she turned back to her observations. 

It had been a very long and very tough few days and it only seemed to be getting harder. 

Isak opening up to him last week had been a relief at first, in so many ways. He trusted his husband and didn’t really think him capable of an affair, but when had that stopped his own insecurities from reminding him that he wasn’t exactly a catch and that Isak could do so much better, in so many ways? He was also glad that no-one was ill, but, in a sense, an illness would have been easier to deal with – specific and measurable. How the hell was he meant to respond to the variety of insecurities and frustrations that Isak had dumped at his feet. 

He had always been vulnerable about his lack of earning power, yet Isak had never picked up on it. Always looking so proud when announcing his latest achievement and the pay rise that accompanied it. When he took on full time care of Lise, he thought he would feel more of an equal partner, but no matter how much he cherished every moment with her, it didn’t seem to fill that gap. He was wise enough to know that this was the reason for his snipping at Isak about early morning meetings or evening functions – not Isak’s success, but his own failure. 

Even knew that his face was strong but his will was weak. He felt like a hypocrite. He is a hypocrite. 

And then all this with his Mama. 

“Do you think Papa will be ok without us?” she asked thoughtfully. 

“Of course, Lise.” 

“But why couldn’t he come? He loves Grandma Train’s hot chocolate.” 

Even smiled, “Yes, he does, that’s true. But he has to work.” 

“Will Grandma Train be able to make hot chocolate?” Lise asked, suddenly anxious. 

“Well, her operation was a bit sudden, but her doctor said she’ll be up and about in no time. Perhaps we can make the hot drinks for a few days?” 

Lise nodded sagely, “Do you think we can use Grandma’s secret recipe – with cardamom and grated chocolate? I’m a very good cook. And you’re a good assistant.” 

“Then we should be fine. Grandma will just need some help moving around.” 

“And she’ll be ok too. She’s not going to die?” 

“No.” Even frowned. “It was just an unplanned operation on her knee after a fall. Apart from that she is extremely healthy.” 

“But we were learning about — stuff, you know, at school. And Emma Jacobsen asked about what happened when you die and we had a big conversation and Lars said his Grandma had died really suddenly and his Mama had to go and see her body to say it as her and it made her cry for days and what happened if that happened to Grandma—” She took huge breath in. 

Even pulled her into his chest. He hated these types of conversations, he always had. His therapist had called it existential dread, but he just called it fucking terrifying. But, he was a father, not Even, and he had to answer his daughter. 

He inhaled. 

“It’s true Lise. People die. But hopefully it is when they are old and have lived a very happy life. We can remember all the happy times together, and although we are sad that they are gone. We are happy to have known them. We celebrate their life.” 

Lise nodded. “Like the Vikings? If a warrior lived a good life and died in battle they used to celebrate by a fire, sometimes even setting fire to their boat if they were a chief or something.” 

“Yes, just like that.” 

“Can I watch Prisoner of Azkaban now?” 

Even allowed himself a small smirk. Thank goodness for the attention span of nine-year olds. He opened his laptop and set up the film for her. She offered him one of the ear buds and he did his best to focus but it was as if his brain had been opened like a can of worms and the contents were squirming everywhere. He couldn’t hold one thought in place, they were twisting and writhing, messing up his fucking head. Focus on that nice professor, he was hot. Or the old-time special effects that have dated badly. Pretty funny. 

It didn’t work. His brain whirled. 

And then he felt the dead weight of Lise against him. He checked the time. Still four hours of the journey to Trondheim. He closed his eyes to attempt his own snooze. 

Even was exhausted, he hadn’t managed as much as a power nap on the train. They took a taxi from the station to the house, making Even’s eyes water at the cost, but it was worth it to avoid dragging all their luggage on the bus in the cold and dark. The smell of snow was strong in the air. They tumbled into the warm embrace of central heating and the intense slobbering of Mika, his mama’s rescue greyhound. She was an unusual choice of dog for Scandinavia but that was his Mama. Unusual. 

After the necessary kisses and hugs and ‘my goodness aren’t you a big girl!’, Even and Lise made the hot chocolate and listened to the story, with Lise tucked up next to her grandam on the couch, Mika snuggled in a corner and her leg resting safely on a stool. 

“Mika and I were having a very gentle morning stroll. Iladalen Park was quiet, but I still didn’t feel comfortable letting her off the lead, she can run so fast you know.” 

Lisa nodded, entranced already by her Grandma’s story. 

“We had just crossed the bridge, the one where we feed the ducks in the summer,” Lise nodded, “when we passed a man with the smallest chihuahua you have ever seen. Well, this little rat starts barking and snapping at Mika, who is still anxious of other dogs, so she tried to hide behind me. The lead got tangled in my boots and as the little terror tried to attack from the other side, Mika changed direction and wrapped me up even tighter. The man tried to get his dog under control but by this point I had lost my balance and, very ungraciously, I fell over. I landed hard on my knee and it made a very strange cracking sound. The man had to call an ambulance. One operation and two titanium pins later… here I am!” 

Lise hugged her grandma tightly, 

“Don’t worry, we’ll look after you now. Dad says we can stay for a whole week, and Mr Larzen has given me work to do, so I can be at school and with you at the same time.” 

Even moved through to the kitchen, picking up cups and plates and tidying away the rather significant mess they had made for only three mugs of special hot chocolate and a plate of biscuits. By the time he returned to the lounge, all three were asleep, cosy and cuddled up together. He carefully carried Lise to bed, but when he returned his Mama was awake and looking at him. 

“Right, young man. What’s wrong.” She asked, her tone more severe than it had been with Lise. 

“Nothing. Why? 

“Clearly something is bothering you. You have that look.” 

“What look?” he scratched Mika's head.

“The one you get when you are lost in your head.” 

“I’m not—” 

“Uh uh.” She interrupted, shaking her head. “What’s the rule?” 

He sighed, feeling caught out like a child again, “No need to tell me everything, but no lies.” 

“No need to tell me everything, but no lies, Even. What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t know. Nothing? Everything?” 

“Well. That shouldn’t take long! You might need to stay for more than a week.”


	8. Kahve Beste

Isak hadn’t realised that he was nervous, until he glanced down and saw the large pile of shredded napkins with the logo of ‘Kahve Beste’, sitting on the table in front of him. He was in the middle of trying to scrape them into his empty mug when he became aware of a presence to his right.

“Isak?”

“Yeah. Oh. Hi Mikael. Sorry.” Isak continued tidying, embarrassed at the mess. “I was a bit early, so I’ve already had a drink.”

Mikael smiled kindly.

“Are you missing them?”

Isak swallowed and nodded. Even and Lise had only been away for two days and yet he had been rattling around their small empty house, at a loss as to what his point was without them there. His quick scan in the fridge on the first night, just to check before ordering take away, had left him almost in tears. Despite organising Lise and their travel as well as being worried about his Mama, Even had made him seven meals, all in little tubs with handwritten labels. The first had been his favourite potato dish, with herring and capers, which Even hated. 

Getting into bed he found one of Even’s little cartoon drawings waiting for him on their pillow. Just a quick sketch of the three of them cuddling.

He hadn’t slept well.

Mikael chuckled, “You know, you two have always been my relationship goal.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean— school sweethearts, best defenders of each other I have ever known, amazing partnership, stunning parenting. Need I go on?”

“I think you’re mixing us up with Sana and Yousef.”

“Nope.” Mikael laughed, “Although please don’t tell them. I’m terrified of her.”

“Ah, she’s a big softy really!”

Mikael looked sceptical as he sat down. The waiter brought over two more coffees. 

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me Isak.”

“That’s ok. Although I must admit, I’m not sure why.”

Mikael took a sip of something frothy, “I wanted you to know.”

Isak wasn’t sure what he meant. “Know what?”

“About this project. Our latest one.”

Isak took a sip of his own drink.

“Even and I have always had this amazingly creative relationship, buzzing ideas off each other. Some of them have been so cr—I mean so far-fetched, that they have been useless, but we have always inspired each other, been a sounding board.”

“I know” Isak smiled. “I saw your Captain America video online, before Even and I were even together.” He decided it was polite not to mention their more hair brained schemes.

“Really? Well that’s embarrassing!”

Both men smiled and Isak was pleased at the friendly atmosphere.

“Do you know what out latest idea is about?”

Isak shook his head, ashamed to realise that he hadn’t asked Even for any details or shared it with him in any way. He wondered where this was going.

“It’s why I asked to meet you here.” He gestured at the café.

“I just assumed it was because this is your parent’s place. Cheaper drinks.”

Mikael laughed, “You’re not wrong, but there’s something else. It’s not my parents place anymore. They’ve handed it over to me and my sister.”

“Wow. Congratulations. That sounds like a challenge.”

“Well it is, but it’s also an opportunity.” He stood up, “Follow me, bring your cup.”

Mikael led them from the public seating area to a door that looked like a cupboard. But when he opened it, on the other side was a massive room with a large skylight. It was empty but in need of some serious cleaning.

“It’s the old storeroom, never used for seating because the only access is a fire escape, and it has no window apart from in the roof.” He glanced up.

“It’s lovely.” Isak answered, a little confused.

Mikael barked out a laugh. “No, it’s not. But it will be. This is for Even.”

Isak was now thoroughly confused. “For Even?”

“This is our plan. When Mina and I take over, Even will run this as an art project for kids. Parents come in for a coffee and he takes the kids off their hands and does art with them. You know, all the creative nonsense that he has been doing with Lise, just on a larger scale. Hopefully, eventually doing classes and bigger events.”

Isak was completely astounded. He couldn’t think of what to say.

“We have the business plan written – including the projections based on a similar project in Trondheim, near where his mum lives.”

Mikael looked both very proud and very excited. 

“What about the capital? The money, for your initial start-up and stuff. Business loans aren’t easy to get.” The practical side of Isak’s brain couldn’t help but have it’s say.

“Believe it or not, my parents are investing in us, for our future they say, but I think they just can’t bear to give up business completely, no matter how much they say they want to spend six months every year at the cabin.”

Through this whole exchange Mikael had not stopped smiling.

“Even has been really great. He has worked so hard on all the planning and everything is professionally done. You should be really proud of him. And my parents wouldn't touch it if they didn't think it was a good idea. They don't do charity in that way- even for their favourite son!”

Isak swallowed and nodded.

“I am.” A pause, “Proud, I mean. But I didn’t know.”

“I think he wanted to surprise you.” Mikael grinned.

“Well, mission accomplished.”

The walk home was a slow meandering one, as Isak’s brain focused on everything he had just heard and forgot about what his feet were doing, eventually finding their way to the river path.

He couldn’t believe that Even had done all this in secret. Then he realised that of course he had kept this a secret. All Isak ever did was criticise or moan about his own day, so when would he tell him anyway? When had he ever asked Even any details about his plans, or been interested at all beyond some vague nods or agreements? And then it struck him; Even probably didn’t WANT to share this with Isak, because he was so negative all the time. Never taking any risks, always a ‘fuddy-duddy’. 

'God, Isak thought, I'm a selfish arse.'

And then with a sudden ache that surprised him, he missed Even. And Lise. Like a physical pain in his chest. Not just because they were six hours away, but for something else. Something he couldn’t quite frame yet, but something bigger. What was it that Mikael had said about them? That they were ‘defenders’ of each other. Well, he had maybe not been Even’s champion for a while, actually he had been pretty shitty at looking after him, period, but he could start again now.

He let his mind wander to the last time they made love, when Even had taken charge and Isak had been so lost in him. When they had connected and been closer than he could have believed. He wanted that, but more so, he wanted to give that to Even. 

He had five more days without them, and then he would show them both just how important they were to him. Or at least, he would try.


	9. The Trondheim Museum of Art

Lise and his Mama had been at it for two days now, hunched over the laptop in animated discussion. Sometimes Lise would skip away and return with a dusty box or an old book, but Even was never allowed to know what they were. He did however recognise an old biscuit tin in which his Mama kept their holiday photos. The only thing he was officially allowed to see was the online link to Mr Larzen that was ticked every day. Lise was old enough to need no help with the IT, in fact Even wasn’t sure he could have helped her even if she had needed it. His own IT skills were stuck at social media and emails, never mind all this fancy at home interactive education stuff.

What it did mean, however, was that his days were pretty much free, and a little dull. He couldn’t work on the business plan because Lise was using his laptop, and he was unprepared for the free time. He sat in the sunroom, letting his mind wander, scratching lazily at Mika's ear. 

His life was strange. His enthusiasm for the art studio with Mikael seemed to be one part of his life, his time with Lise another and his relationship with Isak a third. He was splintered and he didn’t like it. He knew that he and Isak had gotten together young, and stayed together, which had always surprised him. Isak was smart and clever and so, so handsome, getting ready to go places. He assumed that his link to Even would get him so far and them he would move on. But in Isak he had found someone who really knew him. Someone who saw the ugliest that Even had to offer, very early on, and didn’t run. He stayed. He had never questioned getting married, knowing that Isak was it for him, and when Lise came along, he felt fuller than he ever had before.

But it was all a mess. His family was broken. Isak resented him and his future career was hindered by Even’s lack of prospects. He had worked so hard on the art studio, but it would probably be another one of their ‘hair-brained’ schemes as Isak called them, resulting in failure again. Who was Even kidding?

“Even?” his mama called. “What are you doing? Are you wallowing? Come here?”

He wandered through.

“Lise, could you get me some orange juice please?”

With the room to themselves she pounced.

“Right! I know things are difficult with Isak, but getting lost in your own head has never made anything better. Has it?”

Even shook his head

“So go! Go out and do something. Trondheim is beautiful. Take the opportunity of some free time to yourself and GO!”

His Mama was right. He rarely had a full day to himself. And wallowing was dangerous. He would take a day off and let himself go a bit. He could be gone for a whole day with neither of them missing him very much. He would take the opportunity tomorrow to get some real time to himself and still be home to cook dinner, look after Mama and make sure Lise was fine. 

“Have a lovely day.” They both smiled the next day as he kissed them one after the other, “but stay away from any swimming pools.” Lise giggled enigmatically.

“Swimming pools? Mama, just what have you been telling my daughter?”

“Nothing that she shouldn’t already know.” 

Even suspected it was the story about him losing his trunks after diving from the top-board at the ‘Frognerbadet’. He knew Mama was not to be trusted with his embarrassing stories.

“Now go and have a good day to yourself. You deserve it.” Mama sent him packing with a cheeky smile.

Wrapped up and ready for a rather chilly Trondheim, Even set off with a schedule in his head. First he would treat himself to a coffee, pastry and newspaper and spend a luxurious amount of time just reading in a café. Perhaps he would buy a second coffee. Then he would head to the Museum of Art where he would avoid the kids’ displays and spend time looking at the exhibits that he alone was interested in. He had thought lunch should be somewhere cute and folksy that sold unhealthy fried food, and in the afternoon he would window shop, maybe buy some early Christmas presents, until it was time to catch the bus back. He was incredibly excited about what would appear to his twenty-two-year-old self to be a run-of-the-mill visit, but which his thirty-two-year-old self knew to be a day of luxury and freedom.

Even headed for a hipster looking café, full of wood panelling and coffee making equipment that wouldn’t be out of place in Isak’s lab (Not that he had ever been in Isak’s lab. but it was how he imagined Isak’s lab to look. Although on reflection, he probably imagined Isak’s lab to look like something a 1930s Dr Frankenstein might have built. Probably not the case!) The coffee was delicious and eye wateringly expensive, even for Norway, but it was worth it. Especially as he managed to find a soft leather armchair next to a cute, pot-bellied, wood-burning stove against the back wall. He read the paper without interruption and was fortified and ready for some serious art appreciation.

His visit to the Museum was a joy. He wandered through the halls, following the chronological order of the layout, spending too long in front of a modern piece, remembering the lives of occupied citizens from the Second World War. The artist had included hand knitted copies of modest but significant red pointed woollen hats. He learned that children had worn them to show their loyalty to the King – until the hats themselves had been outlawed. He was very moved by this. Good art should make you think, and he wondered how his own little family would have fared during the German occupation. It was whilst retrieving his coat from the cloakroom that he saw a poster for a new exhibition, The Salamander Night by a local Trondheim artist. It as also free, a pleasant change, so he decided to make an unplanned stop.

It was apparently a gift for the Brazilian city of Sao Paulo, but from the moment he stepped into the room, Even was overwhelmed by it. There were 72 metal sculptures, all of which were more than 3 metres high, looming down over him. The exhibition space was dark and foreboding and although he was the only other living person in the room, it instantly made his claustrophobia come alive. He tore at his winter coat and felt a trickle of sweat make its way down his back. Why was the heating up so high? Trying to wrestle back control, he picked up the information sheet to read about the artist’s vision. But the words blurred, and he couldn’t concentrate. Each statue was looking at him.

They were speaking to him, He couldn’t make out the words, just a terrible feeling of dread rising from the pit of his stomach, totally anachronistic to how he had been feeling only thirty minutes before. He had to get out of here. He rushed for the door, thumping it against the wall, and took in large gulps of the damp, cold air. His skin was clammy and cold, and it itched with an old recognisable feeling. Even hated this. He resented how close his ‘crazy’ was to the surface. He couldn’t think what to do.

He almost shrieked when the phone in his breast pocket started buzzing and ringing. He never usually had the ringtone on but had done so this morning in case he was needed at home. He glanced quickly at the screen, his heart thumping. Expecting to see the words, ‘Mama’ he was surprised to see ‘Kjære <3’ instead. He answered the call but struggled to get any words out.

“Hi you!” Even could hear the smile in Isak’s voice.

“Hi.” He croaked in return.

“Even?” Isak asked, his tone quickly changing to concerned. “Are you ok. You sound awful.”

Even couldn’t raise a laugh for Isak’s familiar clumsiness.

“No.” his voice rasped for a second time.

“Where are you?”

“Outside. In town.” He whispered.

“Ok, can you find somewhere safe to sit down?”

Even looked around and saw a fountain that was empty for the winter. He leaned against the edge, hands by his side.

“What’s wrong? Even, can you hear me?” Isak's voice was tinny and faint.

Everything. Nothing. He was a total loser. Isak should shake him off. He was aware of Isak’s voice still come from the phone. It was too much. Isak was saying too many things. It filled his mind. He needed it to be quiet. He switched the phone off completely. It was now silent. He slid down the side of the wall until he was sitting on the freezing kerb, just trying catch his breath, or at least his thoughts. He closed his eyes and counted to 500 slowly.

“Are you ok?” a random voice asked.

He stood up quickly.

He needed to get out of here. To leave this place. 

He headed for the bus stop.


	10. Trondheim Central Station

This was the slowest train ever built. Norway was world renowned for the high quality of its public transport system, but this train was powered by AA batteries or perhaps even a hamster running round a wheel. It was positively leisurely.

Isak could not sit still. The conversation with Even’s Mama had been awful, desperately trying to speak in code, voices calm, almost jovial, so as not to worry Lise. He did the maths in his head. Even had switched his phone off around lunchtime, it was now 18:00 and no-one had been able to get in contact with him. Isak had managed to catch the 14:30 train, but it would still be at least two hours until he arrived, and anything could happen to Even in that time. 

He had tried to phone him, but it was went straight to voicemail. He had of course left messages, at first more casual and conversational but eventually becoming short and tense and very, very worried. He tried texting Even every hour, telling him he was on his way and what time his train would be arriving. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but what he got he was total silence. No answers, no call, no texts. Nothing.

He stared at his fogged up reflection as the Norwegian countryside whirled past silently in the darkness beyond. This was all such a fucking mess.

He hadn’t noticed a change in Even’s behaviour, but then again, why would he notice anything about Even? Isak had been blind, stuck in his own head, with his own problems and his own concerns. Hardly the great defender of his husband or the perfect partnership that Mikael had claimed them to be. Stress had a well-known impact on Even’s mental health, and the pressure of looking after Lise, worrying about Isak and developing his art studio plans must have taken its toll. Isak should have known better.

Surprisingly, he nodded off to sleep, exhausted and frightened, head lolling to the side, his legs clumsily crossed, awkwardly jammed under his seat. It was neither a deep nor refreshing sleep. His thoughts raced, broken images of Even in distress and alone, Lise crying or Isak himself walking around aimlessly. All signs of the fear in his heart. 

The train’s breaks screeched, and he jolted awake in a panic. A glance out of the window let him know that it was Trondheim. He fumbled for the phone he had been clutching tightly in his palm, checking with a vague but persistent hope to see if Even had called. 

Nothing.

He exited the carriage, carrying only the backpack he had stuffed with a few essentials and pulling his padded jacket down at the back. He hated a cold draught on his back and Trondheim was always windy. He mindlessly followed the crowd to the ticket barriers and exit, pulling out his phone to text Even’s Mama, to let her know he was on his way, as soon as he could find a taxi. He was busy scrolling when he heard a faint,

“Isak?”

His head snapped up, scanning the crowd. 

Standing still and hunched, hood up and hands in his pockets like he was trying to disappear was—Even.

“Even?”

He ran to him, his first instinct to pull him tight and hold on forever. But he stopped himself, stood in front of him and gave a gentle smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Can I—” he held out a hand, as if to reach for his husband.

“Yes. Please.” 

Even’s hand met him halfway, clasped as a child, palm to palm, the way they held hands with Lise. He searched Even’s face for anything. A clue as to how to proceed.

“I’m so sorry.” Even began, “For making you worry. I just—, I got a bit lost, in my head.”

“No. I should be apologising. I’m sorry. I have been terrible. Awful.”

They stood in silence, not awkward, but Isak was not sure what to do.

“Shall we get a taxi?” he asked, “It’ll be quicker.”

Even moved his hand in Isak’s until their fingers were interlinked.

“Let’s get the bus. It will be slower.”

They waited at the, thankfully, heated bus stop, still saying nothing. Isak checked for the correct number, and when it arrived he led Even onto the vehicle, to a seat halfway back. They sat and Even sighed, letting his head drop onto Isak’s shoulder. Isak let his own head fall. His thumb circling on the back of Even’s hand. The bus rumbled to a start and began its journey.


	11. The Kitchen

It was past 21:00 when they arrived back at the house, but the slower bus ride had been worth it. Quiet time in each other’s company had been settling. Even seemed relieved that Isak had come to Trondheim just for him, and Isak was beyond thankful that Even had been waiting for him at the train station. To Isak it was a clear sign that they would be ok, just maybe not immediately.

Lise had been waiting, not very patiently, for their arrival. She had appeared a little suspicious but hadn’t seemed to guess at the cataclysmic nature of the events which led to both her parents being in the same city.

“Papa!” she had flung herself at him and cuddled in tight. “Why are you here? We’re on holiday together!”

“That we are.” He laughed. “I hope it’s a nice surprise?”

“It’s brilliant! Dad said you couldn’t miss your important work, but I knew that we were important too. Can we go to Pirbadet Waterpark tomorrow? I have been working so hard with Grandma Train on all my schoolwork. Haven’t I Grandma? And it has a slide and pool just for children.”

Even’s Mama chuckled. Isak couldn’t help but smile as he struggled out of his jacket, overheating almost instantly as the indoor temperatures hit him. Lise’s eagerness was a tonic and he chose to ignore her comment about what he considered to be important.

“Your school project has a slide and a pool?” has asked seriously.

“No. Silly. The waterpark.” She raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “Can we? Please? Please? I have finished my reading and number work and all I have to do is more on my project. But Grandma has helped me and I’m sure mine will be longer than anyone else’s. And better.”

Even intervened. 

“Do you think that Papa and I could have the day together tomorrow and you spend one more day making sure that your project the best project that Mr Larzen has ever seen? Then on Friday we can go to the waterpark, all three of us. What do you think?”

Lise did not look convinced, but Even had spoken with such calm respect that she simple nodded and smiled.

“Ok, Dad. Can Grandma come? We’ve been practicing on her crutches.”

“Maybe.” Was the only answer she received. She was then shuffled off to bed by Isak, Mika following, hopeful for a cosy night on a Lise's bed. Precisely one chapter of Harry Potter later, they both had fallen sound asleep.

Isak lay on his back, side by side with Even in the secondary guest bedroom – Lise as usual was in bedroom number one – holding hands lightly and waiting. All anxiety seemed to have evaporated. Isak had no real idea why, although he guessed it was because they were both where they knew they needed to be.

“Do you want to talk tonight?” Even spoke softly.

“I don’t think so. I’m totally exhausted. You must be as well.”

“Yeah.” Even agreed easily. “How about some alternate spooning and a good night’s sleep. We can talk tomorrow.” 

Isak turned to look at him and smiled. “Can we spoon naked?”

“In Trondheim, in late autumn?”

“Shared body heat is a very effective way to stay warm. Trust me. I’m a scientist.”

Even chuckled. Isak took off his pyjamas and moulded himself to Even’s back, placing a small kiss just below his hairline on the back of his neck, feeling, rather than hearing the sigh that he gave out. 

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Isak awoke to the smell of frying bacon. The bed beside him was empty, but that wasn’t unusual, and it didn’t concern him. As he stumbled downstairs the sound of laughter drifted up. He smiled. His family was happy and that made him happy. Even’s Mama and Lise were sitting at the table drinking orange juice whilst Even was busily at the cooker, poking at various things in a frying pan. Mika sat beside him, carefully waiting for any dropped treats.

“No porridge?” Isak asked.

“I thought we deserve a treat today – but I can make porridge if you want.”

“No way. I want the fried food!” Isak grinned.

Yesterday had been a crescendo of fear and panic, but a night of lying next to Even left him feeling surprisingly well rested. He sat down and felt settled and familiar, though he knew the day ahead of him was going to be difficult in many ways. They needed to talk, needed to find a way to make space to talk, desperately, but he supposed it was the difference between who they were now and when they first got together. They had made a commitment to each other and had built a life, and with all its faults, they both knew that it was where they wanted to be. Lise shouldn’t be the reason to stay together, but she sure as hell was a reason to make as big an effort as possible. Watching Even sway to the song in his head as he cooked, he was shocked to realise that he was content. He was married to Even, the father of Lise, a son in law, a friend and a colleague and he was content. 

He hadn’t been lying when he said that his career frustrated him and left him guilty at his part in poor environmental management, but it was secondary. Secondary to these people and this life. He would find a way.

He was woken from his thoughts by the sound of a horn tooting outside.

“It’s Auntie Lea!” Lise shouted from the window and ran outside in her night clothes, throwing herself into her aunt's arms. Isak caught Even’s eye,

“Lea?” he mouthed.

He shrugged. He had called her in a panic when Even went silent, and it was she who had answered clearly that of course he should catch the first train and run to his family.

“Well, this is a surprise.” Even’s Mama smiled, as Lea came into the kitchen, with Lise attached to her back.

“Ugh,” Lea groaned, “When did you become so heavy?” and she tickled Lise’s sides until she slid off her back and was unceremoniously deposited onto the floor.

Even gave Lea a hug, “This IS a surprise.” he echoed.

“A little bird told me that—,” she looked at Isak, “that all my favourite people were going to be at Grandma Train’s at the same time, and I could hardly miss the opportunity to see you all, actually face to face. So I booked the earliest flight from Stavanger and while I was in the taxi I arranged a hire car and here I am.” She smiled, but it was with only her mouth. Her eyes stayed serious. “Is everyone ok” she asked, somewhat enigmatically.

“Grandma wants to swim.” Lise called out, “But Papa and Dad say they can’t take us because they have to do something boring today.” She brightened instantly, “But you could take us?”

Lise caught Isak's eye and raised her brow.

“Actually, that would be a really good idea. Do you fancy some quality water time with your niece?

“I didn’t really come prepared in November for swimming. I suppose I could borrow a costume?”

“No bother.” Even’s Mama smiled, “But you might have to tie a knot the straps. I think I have a little more up top than you do.”

And all of a sudden the day had changed, and the day was planned. 

Lea, Lise and her Grandma would spend the day out, swimming, shopping and the likes, and Even and Isak would have the day to themselves, with the quiet and space that they needed.

Isak was suddenly once again extremely anxious. The contentment of the morning had vanished, and he wanted to hold onto the girls and tell them to stay. ‘Don’t leave us. Everything is fine. We’ll be fine. We don’t need to talk it over. It has all been fine up to now and It will all be fine again.’

But he swallowed his nerves and steadied himself for what the day might hold.


	12. Girls' Day Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lise

Lise sat, legs swinging, colouring carefully the drawing page that the barista had given her. The crayons in the tub were awful, so she was using the grown-up pencils that Grandma had bought her in the art store. ‘An early Christmas present’, she had said. There were seventy-five different colours.

The blank picture wasn’t a very inspiring one, so Lise was using her imagination, like her Dad had taught her, and was turning it into a scene at Hogwarts. She had already added Hermione (whom she loved best) and was now adding wands, robes and amazing creatures as her inspiration struck. She supposed she might add the boys later.

They had had a fantastic day. First they had gone swimming, and she had zoomed down the slide at least a hundred times. Auntie Lea had caught her at the bottom and Grandma had been cheering from a chair at the side. They had lunch in a restaurant with white tablecloths, done some shopping, including the art store, and were now having coffee and cake in a café that Grandma loved. Lise had been allowed hot chocolate with marshmallows and cream, as well as a piece of chocolate cake. Her Dad and Papa would never have allowed this, but Auntie Lea just ordered what Lise had asked for. It was already dark outside. 

She was totally focused on her artwork, blue glasses slipping down her nose as she concentrated. The two older women were chatting as they sipped their drinks, something boring about Auntie Lea’s last boyfriend and then some stuff about her work. She helped other people write words for magazines and books, although no one ever knew. She said she liked it because she didn’t have any of the stress of being well known.

Lise became aware that the sound of their voices had changed, becoming quieter, as if they were trying to keep it private from her. Lise just kept on with her drawing but listened as closely as she could without looking up. She could hear most of it, although whenever the silly coffee machine made that hissing sound, she couldn’t hear anything.

“Is Even ok, Marit?” Auntie Lea almost whispered. “Isak was terribly worried.”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think he’s having an episode. He has a pretty good handle on his condition now and understands the warning signs. I think it was more like a panic attack.”

Lea made a sound. “Isak said he had one of those as well.”

Grandma sighed, “Those two.”

“Do you think they are, you know— breaking up?”

The last two words were said so quietly that Lise could hardly hear them at all. She strained to listen. Fred and George’s Extendable Ears would be pretty useful about now.

“I have no idea. They seem to love each other, but that isn’t always enough, is it. I mean, I have loved all my husbands, but none of them were worth the stress and difficulty of trying to save an already broken relationship.”

“But Even and Isak aren’t broken. Are they?”

At this moment the coffee machine chose to rattle and hiss. When it stopped Lise only heard,

“..and who would know? Even was terribly upset when he arrived. He kept saying that he wasn’t good enough for Isak, but I think Isak has been getting on to him again about money. Money can be poison to a marriage. I should know!”

“But those two are relationship goals. Whenever I think about my latest failure, I always think about those two. They have been through so much together, right from the first moment, and they seem to be stronger for it.”

“When this one arrived,” Grandma continued, Lise supposed that Grandma meant Lise when she was adopted, “I thought it would be too much for them. They were still so young in some ways, but they have been so great as parents.”

“Maybe it as all been too much. Deep down. Maybe they are broken? Sometimes people are just better apart.”

Lise gasped at these words. Then realising that she would be caught listening in, she pressed down hard and snapped the lead of the lovely dark green pencil she had been using to shade the scales of the dragon.

“Aw no! I’ve broken my green.” she said, looking up. Hoping they would never guess.

Grandma and Lea looked at each other.

“Goodness, we almost forgot you were there.”

“Have you finished your drink? How about we finish the day by getting our nails done?” Auntie Lea suggested, rather loudly. “Is your leg tired, Marit, or can you manage one more journey?” 

“Fit as a fiddle.” Grandma laughed. “I think I might get sparkles on mine. What do you think, Lise?”

Lise agreed with fake excitement, because inside her head she was confused. Dad and Papa? Broken? She knew that they argued sometimes, but they cuddled her and cuddled each other. Some people in her class had divorced parents, and they had two bedrooms in two different houses. But Lise didn’t think she would like that very much. If Dad didn’t make Papa his porridge in the morning, he would eat something terribly unhealthy, and Papa always made sure that Dad took his special medicine. And that one time Dad had been really ill, Papa had been the best nurse ever. And besides, Dad was brilliant at art and Papa was the best at doing funny voices when he was reading her stories. She didn’t think they would be better apart, no matter what other people said.

When they arrived home, Lise gave Mika a big hug. She was feeling a little wobbly and the softness of his fur made her feel better. She lay down beside him and hugged him as the four adults spoke about the day and tidied up the swimming bags and jackets.

She heard Dad’s knees crick as he sat down beside her.

“You ok?”

“Yeah.” she mumbled into Mika’s fur.

“You tired? It sounds like you’ve been very busy. And eaten lots.” He twirled his fingers in her curls and pulled off her glasses, folding them into his top pocket.

She nodded. “Can you and Papa put me to bed together?”

“Of course we can.” He kissed her and made a huge groaning noise as he lifted her up. “Wow, you must have had a LOT of cake!”

Lise giggled a little. “And hot chocolate, with marshmallows, and cream.”

“Whaaaaat?” her Dad laughed. “Wait ‘til I tell your Papa.”

“Dad?” Lise pushed her face right into her Dad’s neck. “Do you and Papa love each other?”

He stopped very suddenly and pulled her head back to look at her. 

“Very much. Why?”

She shrugged. “Can I go to bed now?”

Both her Papa and Dad tucked her in, Dad cuddling her while Papa read her a chapter of her story. 

As she drifted off to sleep she heard her Dad speak.

“Isak, I think she knows.”

“What? How?”

“I’ve no idea, but she’s just asked if we love each other.”

“What did you say?”

“I said yes.”

“Well. Good.”

And then they both kissed her head and she fell asleep.


	13. Where are we now?

Isak sat in the dark at the kitchen table and consciously let himself sink into despair. It was 02:00 and sleep was a distant fantasy. There was no way he could go into their bedroom, and he couldn’t bear to look at Lise. What a fucking mess!

He had been preparing for today’s conversion, his emotions stretched to the max. He had known this was necessary. He and Even needed time together and without it they would continue to struggle, living in the same house but missing each other at every turn. At first he had been terrified that they wouldn’t be able to talk, and then he had been terrified that they would.

He had hoped that it would be like the card game they played with Lise. Each player selected a card at random and when you collected a pair, you set them aside. The cards became fewer and fewer until there was only one left. He thought that he and Even would sit down and discuss each of their problems one by one, deal with them neatly and set them aside until the main issue was all that was left – obvious and solvable.

But it hadn’t worked like that. The day had resulted in nothing neat nor solvable.

The morning had started well. The girls had left, and the two of them had taken Mika out for a quick walk. Having something else to do, a route and a plan, made the conversation easier. But they hadn’t spoken about anything particularly serious and when they had returned to the house and the distractions were stripped away, the awkwardness set in. Even was clearly struggling, as the events that brought Isak all the way up here showed. But Isak was struggling too. Total honesty intimidated him, it always had, and he was surprised to discover that he didn’t want to hear everything that Even might say.

Isak was making tea and toast, despite the massive breakfast they had consumed, aware that he was avoiding Even.

“Isak.” Even had interrupted him, “Come on.” Isak sighed. “What do you think is wrong? With us I mean.”

“I’m not sure.” He stumbled over the words. So many things were flitting through his head, but he couldn’t find a way to pull them together into a coherent thought, to find a way to actually voice them and let them be spoken out loud.

He turned, a slice of bread in his hand, and paused. He found himself staring at his husband but it was so awkward that Isak broke eye contact first.

“I didn’t want to tell you about the art studio.” Even blurted out.

“Why?” But Isak knew why.

Even shrugged. The silence stretched.

“Did you think I would react badly?”

“I thought you would dismiss it. Say it was silly.”

“I’d never do that.

Even looked awkward. 

“Have I done it before?”

He nodded, rather miserably, “Every time.”

“Oh.” Isak deflated. “I just want to support you and Lise. Make sure we are secure, have enough money and safety.”

“I know your reasons, but they still make me feel like shit.”

“But you look after Lise.”

“Yeah, but so what? It adds nothing to our bank account.”

“It’s not all about the bank account.” Isak answered carefully.

“Really?”

“Of course. You do so much with Lise, all the cooking and art, the planning of her lunches and play dates. It’s all important.”

“But I don’t earn.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yes. Yes, you do. You tell me all the time.”

“That’s not fair, Even, you make me sound like a villain. Money matters. It pays bills and buys food. Without it there’s no music lessons or camping trips. My money makes all that happen.”

“Your money.”

Isak sighed, “Our money, you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know what you mean. I absolutely know what you mean.” 

“That’s not fair. I can’t help it that I worked hard, earned a degree and it means I can make a good wage.” He was angry now, Even was making him feel all kinds of frustration, “and anyway, you and Lise are always leaving me out of things.”

“We do? How?”

Isak frowned. “Like at Halloween. You know I hate all that pumpkin crap, but you whooped Lise up, got her all dressed as Hermione and took her out and made me look like the bad guy for disagreeing. You were so condescending in front of her. You and she are this little gang. All the mums on my day at the drop off say it, ‘You are so lucky to have Even’, ‘He and Lise have such a lovely bond,’ or ‘I don’t know how you can go to work and leave such a handsome man at home.’ It makes me feel like shit, Even.”

“I can’t control what other people say.”

“No, but you agree. You think you are a better dad to her than I am.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Really?” Isak waited.

“It wouldn’t hurt for you to come home earlier or miss a few wine events, but we understand.”

The atmosphere had changed and Isak didn’t want to change it back.

“See. Condescending!” he bit out the words.

“Oh, and you never patronise me? I hear your tone of voice or the look in your eyes when I tell you about my day. You think I waste my time baking muffins or making art with her. Like it's not as valuable as what you do. Like you pity my pathetic existence.”

“I’ve already said I wish I was a part of that.”

“Still doesn’t mean you don’t think that what you do is more important.”

“How are you gonna buy pumpkins and muffin ingredients and all the fancy papers and stuff if I don’t earn a wage?” Isak was angry now, struggling to hold back his words.

“Oh, thank you so much for your kindness, my lord and master.” Even answered, voice loaded with sarcasm.

“Its not kindness, Even, it’s my job, my duty.”

“Oh, we’re your duty now?”

“Well, you’re certainly no fun at the moment!” He was breathing heavily, “Someone needs to look after you. You know you can’t look after yourself. God, Even, you haven’t held down a full-time job— ever! How could you support a child, it’s crazy!” 

The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it and he felt the explosion seconds before it actually happened. Even was furious.

“Fuck you, Isak. Fuck you and your degree and your job. Fuck you, you pompous piece of shit.”

If Isak could have stuffed the words back into his mouth he would have, but they were out there now, and if they were out then they must have been sitting inside his head, waiting.

“Even, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to use that word. I didn’t mean your condition.”

“Yes, you did. Well, Isak, fuck you and your ableist shit. Fuck you and your pity. I don’t need this. Not from anyone and especially not from you.”

Even stormed past him, ready to grab his coat and head for the door but Isak caught his wrist.

“No! No way. You don’t run.”

Even looked down at his wrist and then at Isak. Isak quickly let go.

“I’m sorry. Just – please don’t leave.” His fight had gone, and he was now pleading. He could feel tears pricking at his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I can’t believe I said those things. I’m sorry. Really.”

Even visibly sagged.

“I don’t think you are Isak. I think you think stuff like that all the time, but don’t say it. It’s been eating away at you and—” he trailed off.

Neither of them knew what to say. They stood in the hallway and avoided each other’s faces. Eventually Isak spoke.

“Do you really think I pity you?”

Even looked him directly in the eyes, “Isn’t that what you have just said?”

“In anger. Only ‘cos I was fucking angry.”

“I need to clear my head.”

Even pushed past Isak, picked up his coat, and this time he didn’t stop him.

Even didn’t come back for a good hour. Isak made a cup of tea, just to have something to do, but it was sitting cold on the table when he heard the door snick open. The sound of outdoor clothes and shoes being removed floated trough, and then Even’s pink face, ruddy with cold appeared int he doorway. Isak opened his mouth, but Even interrupted him.

“Don’t speak. Please? Just let me—”

Isak nodded.

Even stepped forward. “Something’s wrong with us.”

He couldn’t stay quiet, “It was just a fight. A meaningless argument.”

“No, it wasn’t. Those words, both mine and yours, all meant something.”

“Even, couples fight all the time.”

“And couples break up all the time.”

Isak was appalled. “Is that what you want?”

“No. Absolutely not. But I don’t know how to stop feeling like crap in your presence.”

Even’s words knocked the wind out of him. Said in cool tones, rather than in anger, they were chilling.

“Isak, I am the only man you have ever been with. We got together and stayed together. What if we shouldn’t have?”

Isak didn’t know what to say. His face obviously spoke for him. Even took another step nearer.

“Let me be clear. I love you and want to be with you, your husband and Lise’s Dad. But I’m not sure how to.”

“Ok?” Isak answered, but with a frightened hesitance. He didn’t like where this was going at all.

“I think we need some time apart.” Even looked at him carefully.

Isak had no words. The silence stretched.

“I don’t want that.”

“No, I don’t either. But I think we need it.”

Isak clenched his fists to control his fear. He had to try to be as calm as Even was.

“Ok then. How do we do it?”

“Well, I propose that we set ourselves a time limit of 4 weeks. That would take us up to Christmas week. Lise stays in the house the whole time, but we take turns to stay here with her. Say, a week each staying here and a week at a friend’s. I know Mikael would have me. Would Jonas and Eva have you?”

“You know they will.” He hesitated. “But why? What’s the point?”

“The point is time, Isak. A chance to think and reflect. To work out what each of us is really trying to say here. What we really want.”

“Is this a separation?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like before couples get a divorce, they have to formally separate. Is that what this is?” His heart was being squeezed tight in his chest. He waited for Even’s answer.

“I hope not. I don’t want a divorce.” He sounded wretched.

“Neither do I.” Isak’s voice cracked.

“But I mean it. I think we need time apart.”

One solitary, hot, fat tear slid down Isak’s cheek as he stared at his feet. He heard Even choke out a sob.

“Oh Isak.”

They both reached at the same time. Needing to feel the other. Isak needed to feel Even, his reality and solidity.

With a thick voice he asked, muffled by Even’s jumper, “And you think it will help?”

“Yes.” A gentle response into his hair.

They clung on some more.

“I love you very much.”

“Isak, I love you more than I can say. This is why I want this fixed.”

They stood there for a long time, holding on but unable to speak. Eventually Isak managed,

“Can we wait ‘til we’re home to tell Lise?”

“Yes, I think that’s best. This is only for us.”

Isak nodded. “It’s only to find a way forward - yes?”

“Yes.” Even answered. 

“Ok, then I can do it.” Isak tried to sound as positive as he could.

“I love you.” They both whispered, almost at the same time. But Isak had never been more afraid of anything in his life.


	14. Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak  
> Even  
> Lise

Isak was miserable. The separation was making him miserable and it was all his own stupid fault. He missed Even and he missed Lise. And it was only the end of the first week out of four.

Jonas and Eva had been terribly sorry, but they had Jonas’ parents visiting for the whole of December, and with the best will in the world had no space in their messy little three bedroomed house for the four adults and three children already in situation, never mind adding Isak to the mix. Especially when he was meant to be having quiet thinking time. Jonas had looked especially pained telling him ‘no’. Isak couldn’t think of a time when Jonas hadn’t been there for him and couldn’t really blame him for what were simply unfortunate circumstances.

He had no idea what he was going to do. He had been speaking to Morten, the lab manager, explaining that he was going to need to arrive late and finish early for two out of the next four weeks. When it was his turn, weeks two and four, to be in the house with Lise they had agreed that Isak would take over all of Even’s duties, therefore he would need to do the drop offs and pick-ups. Morten had not been pleased, but when Isak had looked into it, he found that not only did the company have excellent policies to support working parents, but he should also have been offered flexibility as part of his paternity package when they first got Lise. 

“What was all that about?” Anita asked in her usual nosey manner.

“Even and I, well never mind actually, but I need to be able to pick Lise up from school – leave work early.”

“Oh,” Anita’s eyes went wide, and she smirked, “Trouble in paradise?”

On any other occasion, Isak would have bit back at her with a cutting remark, or ignored her completely, but his defences were so weak, that he simple answered. 

“Yeah. And I need to find a place to stay. Like immediately.”

“Why?” Anita asked. Her tone softening.

Isak sighed. “Even and I have been having some problems and he suggested time apart – week about with Lise. He’s in the house for the first week and I was meant to stay with my friend from this weekend, but his parents are visiting, and he has no space.”

She shrugged, “You can stay with me.”

Isak was gobsmacked.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course.”

And so here he was. Spending his first week away from Lise and Even, in a room so small that if he reached out, he could touch both walls at the same time.

He stared at the journal in front of him. Even had pushed it into his hand when he left. He burbled on about how research showed that writing a diary was an excellent way to explore subconscious feelings and he would write one as well, it had a matching cover. See? And Isak watched him sparkle and talk and he felt his heart break. He thought that this was it, the last time they would be all together as a family. This trial separation would become permanent and his life would be over. And it was all his own stupid fault.

He fell back onto the tiny bed with whump and stared at the ceiling.

He was such an idiot. How could he ever have thought that money or a career were more important than Even, more important than Lise? Despite Morten’s unwillingness, arranging his schedule to fit with Lise’s had been easy, he should have done it years ago, but he just assumed— assumed what? That he was so important that the lab couldn’t do without him? That he had to sacrifice himself to keep Lise and Even safe? 

He stared at the soft leatherbound notebook. He stroked the front – moleskin. He pulled the matching pen from its little holder, opened the book and began to write.

“When is Mina due home?” Even asked.

He was distractedly punching numbers into the calculator on his phone. He had multiple papers spread out across Mikael’s kitchen table and his laptop open, showing projections and plans. Having Mikael close was proving to be very beneficial to his planning for the art studio. They were almost at the point where he could start ordering resources – big stuff like tables but also the fun stuff, like art supplies.

“Not for hours, she’s on the late shift all weekend.”

“And whose idea was it to try later opening hours at the cafe?”

“Mine, of course.” Mikael smiled. “But it’s her turn and we share the duties 50/50. Like a good couple.” And he laughed until he caught the pained look in Even’s eyes. 

“Sorry, man,”

“No. It’s fine.” Even brushed off the concern lightly, although it weighed heavily on his heart. “You and your sister make a good team.”

It was near the end of the second week of his and Isak’s refection period. That’s what he was calling it, a ‘reflection period’. He refused to call it a separation because it wasn’t. They just needed time to think, and that was best done apart.

Even had taken the first week at home. Lise had been a little confused, but he had tried to be as honest as possible, explaining that sometimes grown-ups needed some quiet time, and it could be hard to do it when you were in a busy house. He promised that they would all be back together by Christmas. He hoped at he wasn’t lying.

Mina and Mikael hadn’t hesitated to offer him their couch. They didn’t have a spare room to speak of, but the living room and kitchen were separate, so it offered some privacy, although his feet hung off the end and his back might never be the right shape again. And, as he suspected, he had missed Isak and Lise with an ache that made it hard to breathe.

The return from Trondheim had been wretched, telling Lise had been agony and making the plans to be apart had been depressing enough to make him almost change his mind. But even that first week with Lise, he had done some good work. A little bit of research online had told him that one of the best ways to do this would be to write a journal. So, he bought them both matching notebooks and new pens – which Isak had rolled his eyes at – and began writing.

It had surprised him how much he had to say. At first it was just splurging, train of thought stuff that seemed to go nowhere, but as he continued he began to see a pattern to it. He had been right about how Isak had been making him feel, but to his surprise he realised that Isak had been right as well. Even did think of himself as a better father than Isak. He valued time with his daughter more than he valued earning a wage. And if he was being brutally honest, which was the point after all, he did think of himself and Lise as closer than Lise and Isak. And he sort of enjoyed it, encouraged it even. He revelled in the idea of being a friend to Lise as well as a parent.

“Have you heard from Isak?” Mikael asked.

“No. We agreed to only contact each other in an emergency or if its to do with Lise.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“But we each speak to Lise every night before bed.” He could hear the strain in his own voice.

Mikael placed a careful hand on his shoulder,

“Are you ok?”

Even sighed. 

“No. Not really. I mean, it was my idea, but— ”

“But what?”

“I really fucking miss him. Miss them.”

“Isn’t that a good sign?”

“I suppose so.”

“And how is the journal going? Lots of deep and meaningful revelations?”

Even snorted. “Actually, yes.”

“Well that’s good.”

“It has been revealed to me that I am a horrible person.”

“That’s not true. I wouldn’t let you near me and my sister if it was.”

“No really I am. I accused Isak of so much. I said he was judging me for not working, that he thought money was more important than time with Lise, that he was basically and absentee father. And it’s true in some ways but I know that it’s only because he loves and wants to provide for us. It makes sense. He’s scared to be like his own dad, and not look after us. I can’t believe I made him feel bad for that.”

“Well, at least you realise that now.”

“Yeah.” Even felt miserable. “But I’ve also realised that I’m a bit of a bastard. I think I exclude him from my relationship with Lise on purpose. I like feeling that she and I have a special bond.”

“Why? Why do you do that?”

“Because I’m immature? A child and unfit to be a parent.”

“That’s a bit extreme.”

He grunted out a mirthless laugh.

“Perhaps it just shows that you’re learning. Having a child must change a relationship totally. And you and Isak have very different experiences of families. He was on his own by sixteen, whereas you and Marit have always been as thick as thieves, each new stepdad being a bit of a challenge to you. No?”

Even’s eyes widened as he thought this through. Mikael had hit the nail on the head. My God! He was simply repeating learned behaviour without even thinking it through. He wasnt giving their family the chance it needed. He was such an idiot. Enthused, he asked,

“Do you mind if I put pen to paper in my journal just now?

“Go ahead. Make sure to credit me when it’s a best seller and makes you a millionaire.”

But Even didn’t hear him as his nose disappeared into the paper and he started writing.

Lise stared at the little blue journal in front of her. It wasn’t the same as Dad and Papa’s on the outside, but she didn’t think that mattered.

At school on Tuesday, she had been so miserable, that Mr Larzen had kept her inside at lunch and asked her if something was wrong.

“My Dad and Papa are sad.” She mumbled.

“Lise, if you want to speak to me, remember it’s private, unless you’re not safe, and then I might have to tell someone.”

She looked at her feet.

“Do you want to tell me?”

“It is just Papa and I alone this week, last week it was Dad with me. They are taking turns to have some quiet time on their own to think.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Sometimes adults can find it difficult to find time to think about important things.” Mr Larzen smiled softly. He was always kind, even though he was so very tall compared to Lise and her classmates.

“I heard my Grandma and Auntie say that they might break up, but I don’t want them to break up.”

Mr Larzen looked very serious for a moment. Then spoke,

“Lise, did you know that your Dad and Papa and I were at school together?”

“Really?

“Yup. And you know that I haven’t always been Mr Larzen.”

“You told us that you used to be Miss Larzen, a girl, but now you are your real self. A man.”

“That’s right.” He smiled. “Well, your Papa and I were boyfriend and girlfriend for a very short time, but we stopped because he met your Dad. And do you know what? I have never seen any two people so obviously meant for each other. They have had some really difficult times that you know about, when Dad was ill or with your other Grandma, but they are the best couple I know. It took me a long time to find someone as good to me as they are to each other. And even if they don’t stay together, I think they will always be the best parents you could ever have. They chose you after all, and how many children can say that!”

Lise felt a bit better.

“Lise, if this makes the family tree project we are doing difficult for you, we can get something else for you to do.”

“No. I have been working really hard on it.” She had an idea, “They might like it, don’t you think.”

“Yes, I do,” he smiled.

"And they are coming in to school to see it?" she grinned.

"All parents are invited." 

“Dad gave Papa a journal to write in. Do you think I could get one?”

“Of course. Take something from the prize shelf.”

She wandered over and selected a pale blue one that looked like the sky.

“And Lise?” Mr Larzen had stopped her as she went out to play, “If you want to talk about anything else just let me know. That’s what I’m here for. As well as sums and reading.”

“Thank you”, she said, because she was always polite, but also because she really meant it.


	15. Barneskole

Being back at Barneskole was always a strange experience for Isak. The rooms were neat, the colours bright but Isak felt like he should still be a pupil. There was no way that he was old enough and responsible enough to be a parent. And besides, the toilet cubicles were so tiny that two men could have had a face to face conversation whilst sitting down.

Isak stood at Even’s side, subtle gap between them, and stared at the classroom wall. The piece of work in front of them was stunning – surely it hadn’t been made by a nine year old? By their own nine year old?

“Even.” He whispered out of the side of his mouth. “It’s not just me - is it?”

He felt rather than saw Even shake his head. “No.”

“Is it really good?”

“Yes Isak, it is really good.”

Lise was busy at the door, meeting all the parents and handing out little programmes they had designed with the plan of the classroom and each pupil’s work marked in the correct place. Her eyes, however, were fixed on her parents, watching them shrewdly as they stood in front of her work.

It was huge, Isak guessed roughly three meters long and one meter tall – a long, thick piece of paper. Wallpaper, probably. The background had been coloured with some kind of paint to look like old, embroidered material, and there were photographs, drawings and writing scattered across it. Filling it up. The images were artfully linked with a painted golden cord, scrolling and twisting around, showing the connections.

“It’s us.” Isak smiled. “It’s our family tree.”

Even grinned. “It certainly is. She’s done it like the Black embroidery. But she’s used collage, gouache and … I think that’s wax resist watercolours. So many techniques. Some of these I haven’t taught her.”

“It is very impressive – and I’m not just saying that as her Papa. Wait, what’s the Black embroidery?”

“In Harry Potter, remember? It was an embroidery with the family tree of one of the characters.”

“Oh yeah.” He didn't really know. Their reading hadn’t got as far as that particular book and he had never watched the films.

He was mesmerised by the images in front of him. He let his eyes follow the twisting gilt cord to the pictures. Some of the images were copies of photographs, but they had been altered and coloured in Lise’s own style, and others were original drawings.

On the left were his Mama and Papa, an old wedding photo that had been coloured. Lea must have sent it. The sky behind them had been washed a bright blue and underneath it said ‘1995’ in matching letters and,

‘Terje Valtersen (b.1972) married Marianne Olsen (b.1974)’

Above it there was a similar photo of Even’s Mama, but Lise hadn’t bothered putting in all her wedding photos. She had instead made a rather splendid drawing of the four men a bit like the style of the video for Bohemian Rhapsody – all kind of overlapping.

The threads looped out from these photos to childhood images of Isak, Lea and Even.

Even pointed, “No wonder they were so busy with the photo box.”

The famous photos of Isak before and after his haircut were present, but there was also an unbelievably cute image of a young skinny Even at the beach with wet, tremendously white curly hair and rather pink shoulders. Lise had surrounded these main images with other smaller photos as well as drawings of things that were important to each man: art supplies, books, food and the like.

Absolutely square in the centre of the whole piece was a copy of Isak and Even’s wedding photo. The informal one that Even had pointed out weeks ago. How did she get that, the little rascal?

Isak Valtersen (b. 1999) married Even Bech Næsheim (b. 1997)

She had swirled the golden thread around the photo like a very artistic halo and had added some subtle touches of silver pen to the background of the original black and white photo. Apart from that it was untouched. Even and Isak found themselves gazing at the photo of them gazing at each other.

“I still love that photo.” Even smiled.

Stretching out from the photo of the two of them was a thread that led to a drawing and many photos of Lise herself at every age from two until the present. Underneath this drawing there was a box of her neat, round writing, outlined with more gold thread.

_‘My name is Lise._

_I came to live with my Dad and Papa when I was 2 years old because my mum couldn’t look after me._

_I love being creative and playing with my friends and learning in school. I am very lucky because my Dad helps me bake and learn lots of art things – although I did this family tree all by myself._

_My Papa is brilliant at reading and he does all the voices, he works very hard as a scientist. They are both my favourite people in the whole world – although I would love to meet Hermione Granger._

_Sometimes I get sad that my mum didn’t want me, but Mr Larzen said to remember that Dad and Papa chose me. Out of all the babies they could have had they wanted me, and that makes me feel very special._

_I love having a family. We are a team. When I grow up I want to live in my own house but close enough to Dad and Papa so that they can visit lots.’_

Isak couldn’t help it. Without looking he grabbed out to Even’s hand and held it tight. Even didn’t say a word but held on just as hard. Both of them staring at the wall.

“So, boys? What do you think?”

Isak spun round, dropping Even’s hand and coming face to face with Mr Larzen.

“Oh eh. Hi Erik.” Isak politely answered. “Honestly, I don’t know what to say.”

“I do.” Even interrupted, a huge grin on his face, “It fucking amazing!”

“It is, isn’t it.” Erik Larzen laughed. “Although watch your language.” He laughed again.

“Sorry. Mr Larzen.” Even blushed.

“I think you can call me Erik”. He was still smiling. “Lise has been working on it every spare hour, staying in at break and lunch. She seemed very motivated, especially since her return from Trondheim.”

Isak blushed, but Even just exclaimed,

“I can’t believe she managed so many different styles.”

“I must admit I had to do some research to help her. My specialism is sport not art. But still, I think it’s a pretty good job.”

Isak shook his head. “It’s just amazing. Although, I do think perhaps she had had a bit of an agenda.”

Even laughed, “You think? _‘They are both important to me. Sometimes I get sad that my mum didn’t want me, but… Dad and Papa chose me.’_ Not exactly subtle.”

Erik interrupted, “She did tell me about your separation. I hope you don’t think it out of line. But she was so keen to show you how much she loved you both. Whatever happens next. And I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I wish you well – as a family and as a couple.”

Isak was just about to answer when their force of nature grabbed him round the waist.

“Papa, what do you think?”

Even stooped down and heaved her up into his arms. She was almost too big for this, Isak noted.

“It is just wonderful. We both love it.”

“That we do.” Isak answered.

Mr Larzen says it is one of the best things he has ever seen and that he wants it to go on display in the school hall.”

“That’s what I said.” He agreed. “Now Lise, how about you show your parents some of the other work. We have all been very busy, and there’s a lot to see.”

Even let Lise slide to the floor, and she skipped off to the next item. Even leaned over and picked up Isak’s hand again.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

It was more than ok as far as Isak was concerned. He linked their fingers together and was unable to suppress the smile that broke out across his whole face.

“It is always ok, Even. Sometimes I forget, but holding onto you, and you holding onto me, is always ok.”


	16. The Radisson Blu

Isak and Even sat, thighs touching in the cosy seats of the bar, Isak’s hand resting lightly in Even’s palm. It was their first official date night and Isak was inordinately excited. Lise was sleeping over at Hana’s, and next week the two men would return the favour.

For some reason, to Isak this felt like a first date. He had taken his time getting dressed and was certainly smarter than usual. He had even tried to tame his hair. Even had chosen the venue, so Isak hadn’t been surprised when they had gotten off the tram at the Radisson Blu. Even had always loved a grand gesture after all. It was probably more than they could afford, but it was a special occasion, and as he sat beside his husband waiting for their table in the restaurant, he found that he was delighted by the choice.

“I hope this is ok.” Even asked. “I wasn’t sure how you would feel about coming here?”

“Isak laughed, “It’s brilliant. It’s where I first realised that you were worth fighting for.”

“That’s a nice way to put it.”

“It’s also the place where you scared the living crap out of me, but we shouldn’t talk about that tonight”

Even chuckled. “Well it’s only taken ten years, but at least we can laugh now.”

“I know. Time is funny at putting things into perspective. Stuff that seemed to be unsolvable when we were going through it, now is simply part of our history. God, at the time, I thought my heart would break, but now looking back, I’m so grateful for the chance to show you that I was relieved to finally see the real you. And it is all I want.”

Even learned over and took Isak’s hand, “That was really cheesy, but surprisingly lovely to hear. The Christmas decorations were up then too.”

“And despite it being our first time, the sex was rather good.”

“Rather good?” An eyebrow lift.

“Well, neither of us was entirely sure what we were doing, but what we lacked in experience we made up for in enthusiasm.”

Even picked up his glass of almost champagne and said, “To enthusiasm.”

Isak joined him but said, “Nah. To experience.”

“Enthusiastic experience?

“Yes, that’s better. To enthusiastic experience. And lots of practice.”

They giggled and clinked glasses but were interrupted,

“Gentleman, your table is ready.” The waiter picked up their ice bucket and placed their glasses on a tray whilst he escorted them through to the restaurant.

“Fancy.” Isak whispered.

“Only the best for you.”

They were seated, primped, menus were flourished and eventually they were left alone.

“How long is it since we’ve been out like this?

“Just the two of us? I don’t think I can remember. We’ve been at weddings and parties, but this—” Isak pointed around him, “—ages!”

“It’s nice.”

They scanned the menus and discussed their choices, agreeing as they ordered, to share.

“Isak?” Even began. “I know we have already talked like, a lot, about everything.”

“A lot.” Isak agreed nodding.

“Not too much though?”

“No. The mess we were both making of our lives required as much communication as we could muster. I don’t think it was possible to talk too much. I didn’t exactly enjoy going through everything, but I am glad we did it.”

Isak wasn’t lying. The conversations had been long and difficult, speaking about his mistakes and Even’s issues, but overall, it had only served to make things better. They also had full family conversations involving Lise. The therapist had suggested that she be involved, as a key member of their unit, and she hadn’t been wrong. Giving her a legitimate part in the discussion had been revelatory. That little genius had noticed problems that both men had glanced over as inconsequential:

“Dad, don’t you think you should discuss the fact that Papa doesn’t ever make breakfast.” 

It had seemed insignificant at the time but had opened up a can of worms linked to eating, confidence with cooking and the sharing of duties. Isak was constantly surprised by how much work a relationship and a family took.

“And we do have our three-point plan.” Even brought Isak out of his thoughts.

“That we do.” Isak agreed “One. Fortnightly date night, although maybe not always as fancy as this.” 

“Two. Ten free sessions of couples therapy courtesy of the amazingly high quality mental health resources from your surprisingly sound work contract of which we knew nothing.” Even added.

“And three. One personal challenge for each of us.” 

Even looked serious. “Have you decided on yours yet?”

“Yes, I’m going to take that online course I showed you. I thought it might prepare me for a job move eventually.”

“But you can’t leave until we have used up our ten therapy sessions.”

“Don’t worry. I may be wrecking the environment, but the contract benefits are great! What about you?” Isak asked.

“Well, I know the art studio is quite a big challenge, but it doesn’t seem very personal, so I am also going to do a class.”

“Wow that’s great. What are you going to study?”

“Either car maintenance or Indian cooking. I can’t decide which.” Even raised a shoulder.

“I’ve heard if you want to meet women,” Isak said, “you go to car maintenance, because they all go there thinking they are going to meet men. And if you want to meet a man you go to cooking because of the opposite.”

“Oh, which to choose then?” Even laughed.

“Do them both.” Isak shrugged. “You still come home to me.”

“Every night” and he smiled a slow smile and a pause to hold hands on the table. 

“You know, talking about sex.” Even continued.

“Were we?” Isak grinned.

“Kind of. Anyway. It’s the one thing we haven’t spoken about yet. At least in any detail.”

“What do you want to say?”

“Well. Do you remember that morning? After you had the panic attack, and we had the day to ourselves. When you asked me to take control?”

At this point they were interrupted by the arrival of their meals. By the time the waiter had left them Isak was blushing.

“Sorry. Is this embarrassing?”

“No. I once told you that nothing about our relationship embarrasses me anymore. And I did mean it. You just took me by surprise is all.”

Both men started eating, lifting forkfuls off their own plate and reaching over to steal bites from the other.

“How long have you felt that way?” Even asked.

“This fish is amazing.” Isak exclaimed at the same time.

“Sorry? What?” They both overlapped.

“I said, the fish is amazing, but I think your question was more important.” Isak chewed and swallowed.

“I just wondered how long you’ve been thinking about what we did. About me being more, erm, dominant.”

Isak thought carefully. It had been something that had always floated around in his head, but for some reason that morning had been the first time he had courage to say so. He told this to Even.

“And, Even, I loved it. I loved everything we did. For some reason it made me feel so special, taken care off, adored I suppose.” His confidence faltered a little. “Did you like it?”

“Very much actually. Watching you react and let yourself go, more than you ever have was amazing.”

Isak tried very hard not to re-blush at this compliment.

“What about you? Is there nothing you want?”

“Apart from you?”

“Of course.” Isak held Even’s eye contact.

“If I’m honest, I find that I like this new dynamic. It feels good to be the one making the decisions and leading the play.”

“Bossy.”

“Do you think that’s ok?”

“I think as long as we keep talking and agree, it is more than ok.”

They fell to a comfortable silence, Isak lost a little in his own thoughts as they continued eating. As the dessert plates were cleared Even made a little noise in his throat, like something was stuck. Isak looked up.

“Isak? I’ve booked a room. Its not the suite, who can afford that right? But, erm, would you spend the night with me?”

Isak was charmed. It was the most lovely, formal sounding invitation and his heart sped up at the thought.

“Would I ever? He laughed. 

He drained his glass, stood up and grabbed Even’s hand. 

“Come on, first one to get their clothes off gets a blow job in the shower!”

Even stopped and looked at him carefully, smiling.

“Isak, this is a marriage of equals. We both get a blow job in the shower.”

And with a soft kiss, led Isak to their room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a wee Christmas epilogue. Thank you so much for reading.


	17. Home

Isak watched Even’s depression roll in like a sea mist on a summer's day; chilling his bones and blocking out the sun. It wasn’t a surprise. Even himself had sensed its arrival.

“I don’t feel so good.” He had said one morning at breakfast, Lise happily munching on her porridge and peaches that Isak had made. It probably wasn’t as creamy or sweet as Even’s, but she never complained. She knew he was trying, like he had promised.

“Oh, in what way?” Isak had asked absentmindedly, wondering if it was a headache or his stomach, should he go and get some paracetamol or something else?

“In my mind.” He had answered simply, but the implication couldn’t have been clearer.

“Oh. I see.” Isak breathed slowly, making sure to temper his reaction to Even’s tone. “What do you want to do?”

Lise looked up at Even and frowned. It wasn’t Even’s first episode since they had gotten Lise. She had seen her Dad depressed before, but this was the first time in some years, and she could certainly understand it better – more than just ‘Dad isn’t feeling very well’.

“I’d like to go back to bed?”

And that was how it began.

Isak phoned Morten immediately. Without going into detail, he asked for leave.

“How long do you say you need?”

“Probably about four weeks, compassionate leave if possible.”

“Well, I’ll speak to human resources and get it set up.”

“Thanks, Morten.”

“Erm, Isak, can I ask - are you ok?”

“Yeah. Just a family thing. Thanks for listening. And your support.”

“That’s ok. And can I just say-“

“Say what?”

“It’s been good to see you being more-“

“More what? What?” Isak didn’t like the idea of Morten having an opinion on his personal life.

“Well, more happy I suppose. And less chained to this place. Don’t get me wrong, I love my work, but it is just that to me, work. Before this, you always seemed to be here – first in and last out, but now you actually go home. It suits you.”

Isak had no idea what to say to any of that so he had just nodded and closed his phone. 

Even had already gone back to bed when he was done.

“Come on Lise, let’s get ready for school.”

“I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with Dad.”

Isak felt his heart melt. He pulled Lise to himself.

“For the next few days all he’ll do is sleep. His brain needs to rest. After that, we’ll see. I’ll speak to Mr Larzen.”

“Ok.” she put her arms round his neck and whispered in his ear. “Papa?” 

“Mm mm?” he nuzzled her in response.

“Can I get a book about what’s wrong with Dad?” She pulled back and looked him in the eye. “Hermione always researches. I need to do that too. When Harry is hurt, or they have a problem she finds out stuff from a book and it always makes things better.”

“I’ll try.”

What a girl!

Isak checked on Even throughout the day. As he had predicted, Even spent most of it asleep, only really allowing himself to be roused in order to sip at some water. Isak tried not to let himself worry. All it would do would be to make him sad and it did nothing to help Even. He prepared dinner for himself and Lise and went to pick her up at school. Mr Larzen met him at the door.

“Hi Isak. Lise mentioned that Even isn’t very well.”

“Erm, yeah.”

“She asked me to get her a book on mental health and depression, but I am afraid I didn’t really have anything suitable.”

“That’s ok. Thanks for trying.”

“No. It’s not that. I found a website.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a support site, for families who live with Bipolar condition. I didn’t give it to Lise, but I checked it out and it seems really sound. I thought it best to swing it past you first.”

He handed over a slip of paper.

“Anyway. Give Even my best.”

That evening, Isak and Lise spent almost an hour investigating the website. Isak was impressed. The advice and information were laid out in such a way that Lise could easily follow it. Not only that, but it had a list of suggestions. Lise disappeared off for a moment, got her blue notebook and started making a list.

Even slept almost completely through the next day as well, although he managed some soup that Isak had bought, but still was pretty uncommunicative. By the time Isak was leaving to get Lise, he had perked up a little, enough at least to start feeling bad.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled after another sip of water.

“What for?”

Even just sighed.

Isak quickly slipped into bed beside him, lying on top of the covers.

“I don’t think Christmas next week will be quite as we planned.” Even admitted.

“The first time this happened, what did I say?” Isak answered him softly.

Even sighed again, “Minute by minute.”

“And this minute?”

“This minute we kiss.” Even’s lips almost managed a smile.

“Wrong!” Isak giggled. “This minute I pick Lise up from school.” He sat up.

Even let out a sigh that this time was almost a laugh. Almost. He was getting there. Isak kissed his forehead.

“Hold that thought.”

Isak watched Lise walk carefully into the bedroom.

“Hey Papa.”

Even sat up and smiled. Isak could see the effort behind the gesture.

Lise took out her notebook.

“Right Dad. I have done some research. I thought it was called depression, but Papa says you have something called Bipolar.” She read from her book.

Even nodded.

“The website says it can’t be cured but can be managed.” She looked at Even, “That means you’ll always have it, but it can be looked after better.”

Even nodded again.

“Now. I think you’ve been pretty good so far.” Lise looked very serious.

This made Isak chuckle as he rested against the door frame.

“You eat healthily, go to see a therapist and take your medicine. But it says here that when your routine changes you need to be careful.”

“Yes?”

“Well, our routine has been changed. You had to go to Grandma Train’s when she fell and then you lived with Mikael and Papa lived with that lady from his work. You were apart and I know you were thinking of breaking up.”

“How did you hear that?” Isak interrupted, walking in to sit on the bed.

Lise had the good grace to look a bit guilty. “I heard Grandma and Auntie Lea talking.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway. As I said, we need to get back to a good routine.”

“Ok?”

“And then we need to try a few things to support our mental health.” She spoke importantly.

“Oh? We do?” Even smiled and Isak really liked seeing it.

“Yes. You can choose one of these every day,” and she read out a list, “The site said we can take time out to go for a walk to get some fresh air or you can phone a friend or loved one you don’t normally see, like Grandma. It says you could also make some time to read a book you always wanted and try doing something like breathing exercises, yoga or colouring. Find your inner calm.”

“That all sounds very helpful.” Isak responded, Resting his hand on her shoulder.

“So, Papa will take me shopping for colouring books, you know the kind with patterns, and you can use my pencils.”

“Thank you.” Even smiled.

“And Mr Larzen said he uses a really good app to help him do mindfulness breathing, so Papa is helping me to download it on your phone.”

“Thank you again.”

“What one would you like to try tonight?” Lise flipped open her notebook to a fresh page.

“I’m not sure I’m up for very much yet.” Even looked tired again.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Lise’s voice and face showed her concern.

Isak watched as Even reacted to his daughter’s sudden emotional shift,

“Although, perhaps instead of me reading to you, you could read to me. Would that count?”

Lise instantly brightened and ran off the get her copy of The Prisoner of Azkaban.

“Are you sure you’re ok with this?” Isak pushed the hair out of Even’s eyes.

“Of course. Who could disagree with such thorough research?” And although he looked somewhat more deflated than before he still let out a little chuckle.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” And Isak disappeared to clear up the mess from earlier and sort out the app.

When he came back, carrying a tray of three hot chocolates (instant), both his charges were asleep. Lise, lying sprawled out on the bed, star shaped and Even tucked up and curled under her arm. Isak put the tray down and watched them both, sipping slowly on his synthetic tasting hot drink. More sugar would probably help. And maybe a spoonful of real chocolate? Or Even just making it from scratch – with cardamom.

He supposed that their Christmas plans were not going to be quite what he had expected, but he honestly couldn’t think of anywhere else he would rather be. 

Isak put his mug back on the tray and slid out of his jeans. He pulled the covers back and wrapped himself around Even, spooning him gently, hand resting on his stomach. Even’s moved his hand and laid it on top. 

Did he wish that Even didn’t have to live with the frustrations of his mental health? Yes, of course. But did he want an Even who wasn’t bipolar, to make his own life easier? He genuinely didn’t think so.

Reality was always better than fiction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading my indulgent words.


End file.
